Pavel
Everything happens so fast.
I hear the crack of a gunshot as Vlad lunges forward with what little strength he has left, his body jerking to the side, blood blooming on his shoulder. He collapses, letting out a strangled cry that cuts straight into my gut.
“Vlad!” Kat’s scream echoes through the noise. She’s at his side in an instant, pressing her hands to the wound. My stomach twists at the sight of his blood staining her fingers.
“What the hell have you done, you prick?” I growl at Piotr.
He’s standing with the gun still raised, a maniacal expression on his face, like something inside him has finally snapped.
“It’s almost finished,” he says as he points the gun at me again.
A shot rings out from somewhere in the distance, then another, and another. I hear shouting.
“What the hell?” Piotr says in confusion.
More gunfire sounds from downstairs, and I hear men shouting orders at one another in Russian. One of Piotr’s men pokes his head into the room.
“Boss, we’re under attack!”
I grin. Nikolai. He made it. And from the sound of it, he brought a whole goddamn army with him.
“Fuck!” Piotr shouts.
Piotr’s men pour into the room, taking cover, and firing back while my men gain ground.
I dash across the room, dragging Vlad behind my desk and shouting at Kat to join us. She’s trembling, terror written all over her expression. Piotr and his men continue to exchange gunfire with Nikolai and his team. He throws a coffee table onto its side, taking cover behind it as he continues to fire. Several of his men fall down around him.
I open a compartment on the underside of my desk, taking out a pistol. Then, I turn my attention to Vlad. He’s bleeding profusely and looking paler by the second.
“Keep pressure on the wound,” I bark at Kat over the deafening blasts.
My heart hammers as I flatten a hand on top of hers, forcing more pressure onto Vlad’s shoulder to stem the bleeding.
Vlad groans and his eyes roll back. I grit my teeth. “Don’t pass out,” I order, though I’m not sure he can even hear me.
Bullets whine overhead, splinters from a demolished shelf pepper my back.
“Stay down!” I shout to Kat, shifting my body to shield them both.
She hunches down, practically lying across Vlad, tears dripping onto his face. Another hail of gunfire cracks through the air, lighting up the room in staccato bursts. I can barely think, the pounding of my pulse in my ears is almost as deafening as the gunfire.
“What’s happening?” Kat asks.
I hunch lower as another barrage of bullets fly. A thick haze of gunfire smoke fills the room. “Nikolai,” I cough out. “He’s here with our men.”
A thunderous burst of shotgun fire resonates from the hallway. I peer around the corner of the desk and spot movement—more black-clad figures moving into the room. I can’t tell whether they are mine or Piotr’s. Another volley of shots rips through the doorway; bullets pepper the walls.
My gaze darts to the side and I spot Piotr, his pistol raised. His face is twisted in a mix of rage and desperation. He trains the gun on Kat, who’s lying over Vlad, pressing her body weight onto his wound, her arms slick with Vlad’s blood.
Dread freezes my blood. “No,” I growl, pivoting in place, ignoring the bullets whizzing overhead. I steady my own gun with both hands. I won’t let him kill her. He’s already destroyed so much. He orchestrated this entire nightmare.
I align my shot with his forehead, and I pull the trigger.
The single shot roars in my ears. Piotr’s head snaps back, eyes going wide. He remains upright for a fraction of a second, as though refusing to accept that he’s just been shot between the eyes.
He finally collapses, his body crumpling across broken furniture. I pull in a shaky breath, my mind reeling. Piotr is gone. My old friend. Kat’s brother.
The gunfire continues but it’s now less concentrated. A few final bursts come from the far side of the hall, and I realize those must be the last of Piotr’s men. Over the next minute or so, everything quiets. I crouch down, helping Kat with the pressure on Vlad’s wound. He’s barely conscious, blood still pulsing beneath our hands. Kat’s frantic but determined, refusing to let him slip away.
Suddenly, a hush falls over the room. My ears are still ringing from the onslaught, every nerve twitching in readiness for more shots, but the corridor remains eerily quiet. I lift my head, scanning the room. Broken furniture, bullet holes, bodies. My office has been completely destroyed.
The stench of gunpowder, blood, and death saturates the air. Men in black vests edge in, rifles lowered, carefully checking for survivors. I recognize them as my own, Nikolai’s team.
“All clear,” one calls out, stepping over a corpse near the doorway. “Boss, you in here?”
I exhale, heart pounding. “Here!” I yell back. “Get a medic—Vlad’s hit!”
Nikolai emerges from the smoky hall, eyes wide with alarm. He sees Kat and I pinned down over Vlad, my body braced protectively in front of them.
“Christ,” he mutters, gesturing two men forward. “Get him to a doctor.”
Kat refuses to budge until they physically ease her aside. She cries out, letting go of Vlad’s shoulder with trembling hands. Blood coats her palms, her shirt, her tear-streaked cheeks. I swallow a wave of nausea at the sight but manage to help her up.
Vlad moans, eyelids fluttering when the men shift him onto a makeshift plank. His wounded arm dangles limply, and my gut seizes with fear that we might be too late. He’s still breathing, but his condition is grave.
“Get him to a hospital now!” I snap at the men. “There’s no time to waste.”
They nod, carrying him gently but quickly through the wreckage. Kat hovers, wanting to follow, but I hold her in place.
“Wait,” I tell her. “Let them handle it. You’re in shock.”
She wipes at her face, blinking rapidly as she glances around the room. That’s when her gaze lands on Piotr’s body, sprawled over a half-crushed coffee table. Her breath catches. She stares, torn between horror and heartbreak.
“Piotr,” she whispers. “No…”
Guilt gnaws at me. I shot him to protect her, but seeing Kat’s grief shreds me. She steps forward, slipping out of my grasp to go to his body. I quickly intercept, blocking her line of sight.
“Don’t look,” I say quietly.
She tries to push past me, tears glistening. “He was my brother,” she chokes out. “I…just let me…”
I can’t deny her. Reluctantly, I shift aside. Her eyes fix on Piotr’s glassy stare, at the bullet hole in his forehead. She presses a hand to her mouth and sobs, a strangled sound ripping free. My heart aches for her. Piotr became a monster, but first, he was family.
Kat crouches down but she doesn’t touch him. She only stares, her body shaking in silent sobs. A moment passes. I swallow hard as I place a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I say. The words feel woefully inadequate.
She nods, trembling. “I know he tried to kill us; I know he killed our parents…” Her voice breaks. “But he was still my brother.”
I let out a slow breath, glancing around the ruined office. The place is unrecognizable. Bullet holes are everywhere, the furniture destroyed, bodies strewn across the floor. My men carefully step around the debris, checking to see if any of the attackers are still alive.
None of them is. Piotr’s men paid the ultimate price for his ambition.
Kat’s eyes flash with terror. “Ana, Camille. We need to find them! What if he sent men looking for them?” Her expression shatters anew at the potential reality.
“Oh God, Ana!” She looks around wildly. “Where is she? And Camille?
“We’ll find them,” I reassure her.
I’m sick with worry, but I don’t let it show. I have to find my daughter.
Nothing else matters.
