Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“You’re pathetic!” yelled Spartak, kicking me again. “You die for a woman!”
Except it wasn’t anger in his voice: it was fear. He had Liliya but she was a possession, not someone who loved him. He feared, he knew, that he’d never have what I had.
I still had it. I still had her.
I just had to...get the fuck up.
The pain in my head didn’t diminish. But now there was something in the firestorm, something made of diamond, indestructible. I focused on it.
Spartak yelled and swung back his foot for another kick, this one aimed at my head. But at the last second, I reached up and caught his ankle, the tip of his polished shoe an inch from my face.
She needs me.
I rolled onto my side and braced my hands on the floor. As I pushed, I felt shards of glass lancing into my palms, but I ignored it. I groaned. Grunted.
And got the fuck up.
Spartak stared at me in disbelief as I slowly rose to my feet. I could feel something warm dripping down my neck and wondered how badly my head was bleeding. One side of my face was bleeding, too, and my hands were a chewed-up mess.
I gripped my waistcoat, leaving bloody handprints, and tugged it straight.
Spartak ran at me, swinging wildly. I stepped forward and punched him in the jaw, ignoring the pain from the glass in my hands. The blow took him right off his feet and he went crashing down on his back. I followed him down, hitting him again and again, until finally he lay still.
Then I heaved myself to my feet again and stumbled down the stairs into the fire. My vodka-soaked jacket caught fire immediately and I ripped it off me just before the flames reached my face. I couldn’t see anything but smoke. “Bronwyn!” I yelled. My voice sounded slurred and slow. There was no reply, and I yelled again, fear crushing my heart. “Bronwyn!”
The flames were roaring so loud I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hear her even if she answered. I pushed on down the hallway, skirting around fires that seared my face. Something crunched under my feet and I looked down to see pills: thousands of pills, strewn across the floor. Blood was dripping down onto them...God, I was leaving a trail, and I was lightheaded, too. How badly was I bleeding?!
It didn’t matter. I’d search every inch of this place if I had to. “Bronwyn! Bron—” The smoke got in my throat, and I started coughing, then couldn’t stop. I doubled over and went down on my knees.
“Radimir!”
Her voice, somewhere over to my left. I crawled through the smoke, still coughing. And then I saw her, and it was like my heart started beating again. She was on her knees next to Liliya, pressing on a wound in the woman’s stomach. “I’m pressing on it!” she told me, tears running down her cheeks. “That’s what you have to do, right?”
I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight, nodding weakly, still coughing. Liliya opened her eyes and looked up at me, her face deathly white.
“She can’t walk,” Bronwyn told me desperately. “I tried but I couldn’t get her up the stairs.”
An explosion shook the hallway and a fresh, choking cloud of black smoke swallowed us up, burning our eyes and forcing its way down into our lungs. I laid a bloody hand on Bronwyn’s shoulder. She glared at me. “I’m not leaving her! I promised!”
My chest went tight. My little librarian was so brave...but the flames were spreading fast. We couldn’t stay, and I couldn’t carry Liliya, not in the state I was in. My jaw set and I gripped Bronwyn’s shoulders: I’d drag her away, if I had to.
And then out of the smoke came a big, gloriously familiar figure. Alexei scowled down at me: what have you gotten yourself into now? Then he bent down, scooped Liliya up into his arms and turned towards the hatch. “We go now,” he told me.
I didn’t argue. I clambered to my feet and Bronwyn and I supported each other as we staggered down the hallway and back to the stairs.
When we got back up to the club, we found things had gotten worse, fast. The fire had really taken hold, spreading across carpets and up walls that Spartak had been too cheap to fireproof. The entire place was ablaze. But at least with the door open, the people had finally been able to get out. The club was empty.
Almost empty. My brothers intercepted us as we moved across the dance floor. “Chyort, brother,” said Gennadiy, staring at my wounds, my singed, bloody shirt and my missing jacket.
“I’m okay,” I wheezed. And I pulled Bronwyn tighter to my side. Better than okay. Together, we all headed for the door.