They hadn’t got far when the sound of squealing brakes made them stop. A black range rover with tinted windows screeched to a halt outside a house at the end of the road.
“That’s odd,” Wendy said. “That car has no number plate–” She broke off as four armed men in a military style clothes jumped out. All of them were carrying assault rifles. “Shit!”
Sienna didn’t say anything. Her mouth was too dry. She looked around for somewhere to hide certain the men were looking for her.
Instead they smashed down the door of the house they had stopped outside and rushed in, emerging moments later dragging a middle aged woman and a young man who looked enough like her that he was probably her son. She kept trying to escape her captors and go to him.
He seemed somewhat out of it and Sienna suspected he had a milder version of whatever had afflicted their attacker yesterday. That or he'd had longer to recover.
By this point a small crowd had gathered from neighboring houses and one of them rushed at the man who was holding the woman but there was the crack of a gunshot and he collapsed to the ground, his knee a smashed and bloody pulp by a well-aimed shot.
“The next person to interfere gets it in the head.” The man who had shot him had an accent that Sienna thought was American. He glared at the crowd before turning his attention back to the male captive. “Are you sure about this one? He hasn't done anything yet.”
“I’m sure,” the one holding him said. "Look at him."
"Even if he wasn't she gave us this address and she's never wrong." The fourth gunman whacked the captive with the butt of his rifle. The victim roared and a blast of fire flew at his attacker who side-stepped it calmly. “See?”
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