Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
We exit into a narrow passage behind the house, a set of steep, brick stairs ahead of us. Here, the air is clear and cold, a welcome relief.
We rip off our masks, gasping for fresh air. Rafail’s voice is steady, unwavering, a lifeline in the chaos. “When we get to the top of those stairs, there’s no telling what we’ll find.” He pauses, his dark eyes meeting each of ours. “But we’ll face it together. All of us.”
My heart beats madly. I turn to Rafail. “And if there’s no way out—”
His eyes meet mine. “We’ll make one.”
We both hold each other’s gaze.
We aren’t just talking about an escape route.
If there’s no way out… we’ll make one.
The screech of tires warns us that we won’t be alone for long.
Soloto’s here.
He knows where the safe house is.
I remember now with vivid clarity why I came to Moscow. Why Mikhail sent me. I balked at him and protested, but my god, he was right—Soloto’s merciless and he’s come. Behind us, the smoke is getting thicker.
“We have to go,” Rodion says, fearless and brave. “Move!” I swallow the fear rising in my throat. Now isn’t the time for doubt or second-guessing. Now’s the time for survival. I’m ready to fight.
He takes the steps two at a time. Rafail opens his mouth as if to protest, then closes it and shakes his head. It’s time. Time for Rodion to earn his spurs.
“Go,” Rafail says, his voice hoarse. “Follow him.”
We quickly climb in single file, Semyon at the lead. One by one, we emerge onto a dark, vacant street. I have no idea where we are.
The sound of approaching tires comes closer and closer. We stand shoulder to shoulder, ready for whatever comes, when the night explodes.
Oh god. Black-clad figures move with deadly precision. “Get cover!” Rafail urges. “Behind the cars.”
I move as quickly as I can.
We’re surrounded though. There are easily twenty in their number, armed and ready. They shoot, gunshots pinging off the cars. We hold them off. I manage to get one straight behind the eyes, and Semyon’s a veritable cherry picker, taking each of them one at a time.
They keep coming.
“Fucking bulletproof vests,” Rodion snarls. “Keep going. Zoya?”
It’s then that I notice Zoya’s fisting hand grenades. She tosses one to Rodion, who pulls out a pin, rears back, and whips it as far as he can ahead of us. The explosion is deafening. Bodies fall to the ground in a torrent of smoke.
And still they come.
My heart sinks. We can’t do it. We don’t have the sheer manpower to help.
“Fuck this,” Rafail says. “I’ll create a diversion. Run.”
He stands, his gun shooting fire as he pulls the trigger in rapid succession.
But no. I won’t leave him. I can’t. Not now, not ever.
The sound of a heavy car approaching comes again. Oh god. Oh no. We can’t survive another attack—we won’t. If they bring more people in—
A huge, armored vehicle screeches to a halt, the doors swinging open. My heart clenches, instinct kicking in before I see them, hope battling with fear rising in my chest.
They’re here.
Chapter 28
POLINA
My brothers.
Every single one of them, larger than life, furious, formidable, weapons drawn. Relief floods my veins as love and loyalty shake me to my core.
My brothers have come for me.
I know them.
My god, I know them. All of them. That’s Mikhail, the eldest, with his golden skin and light brown hair, his eyes little pools of red-hot fury as he points his weapon.
Aleksandr, tall and muscular with an expression of utter fury on his face. Lev, my younger brother, his gun trained in front of him as he pulls the trigger relentlessly, spitting fire and devastation. Ollie, his vivid green eyes as placid as a field of grass, totally in his element as he slides a knife out of his boot with ruthless efficiency, kneels, and slices the neck of a man who’s down.
Nikko, our fierce protector, his jaw set and weapon readied.
And Viktor. Huge. A human tank. Some of Soloto’s men try to flee at the sight of him, but Ollie and Lev suffer no escapes. Lev shoots, and Ollie finishes them off. My brothers have caged them in.
With a scream of rage, Semyon charges, tearing through the enemy ranks, his face a mask of cold fury. Rodion, ever the wild card, follows behind, dual pistols blazing. His manic grin sends shivers down my spine as he mows down the enemies in his path, seemingly taking great delight in the chaos and bloodshed. He’s wild and unpredictable but deadly accurate.
Rafail, ever calm and unperturbed, picks off stragglers with chilling efficiency. When I see a bloodied body rise and point his gun at him, I scream and pull the trigger. I hit him straight between the eyes.
“Good girl,” Rafail mutters before he pulls the trigger again. Each shot is deliberate, clean, with no room for error.