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"We need to get out of here," I say, reaching for the handgun I keep in the bedside drawer. It's a cold, heavy reminder of the life I lead and the dangers it brings.
Mariya nods, her agreement instant as we both understand the gravity of the situation.
As we creep toward the door, ready to make our escape, I find myself fueled by something more potent than self-preservation. The house may be under fire, but it's Mariya I'm determined to protect. With every step, every breath, I vow that I'll keep her safe, no matter the cost.
Chapter 15
Damien
I'm crouched low, my breath steady as my heart hammers against my ribs. Peeking through the tattered remains of what was once a pristine living room window, I catch sight of the assailants—Ahmet's men, their faces contorted with rage and a thirst for vengeance.
"Dammit," I hiss under my breath, the realization sinking in like a lead weight. They've tracked us down, brought the fight to our doorstep, to Mariya. She shouldn't be here; caught in the crossfire of a war she didn't start.
"Stay down!" I bark at her as I squeeze off a round of shots in the direction of an advancing thug. The sharp sound of gunfire fills the air.
The room erupts with chaos, bullets shattering what's left of the glass, splintering wood, and tearing through fabric. Mariya crouches beside me, her face a mask of terror and determination.
Suddenly, the front door bursts open, and through it stumbles Oskar, his arm slick with blood, his face etched with pain. "Boss!" he grunts, a hand pressed to his side, where a dark stain is spreading fast through his clothes.
I move without thinking, covering the distance between us in seconds. "Oskar, you fool," I growl as I drag him further inside, away from the line of sight of the Turkish mafia outside. He's a mess, but he's alive, and right now, that's all that matters.
Outside, the Turks are relentless, but they're not inside—yet. We've got a slim chance, a brief window of opportunity. I turn to Mariya, her eyes wide but fierce. "I'm getting you out of here," I say, my voice a low promise I intend on keeping. No matter what happens next, I'll protect her. I have to.
The blood is too much, dark and unrelenting, as it seeps between my fingers where I press against Oskar's side. His breaths come in gasps, each one shallower than the last. His grip on my arm is iron, even as the strength fades from his eyes.
"Run," he manages to choke out, his gaze flicking past me to the door, where more shadows loom and more threats edge closer. "They won't stop, Damien. Go!"
His words are a gut punch, the finality in them undeniable. The man who's been at my side through every shady deal, every narrow escape, is urging me to leave him to his fate. And as his grip slackens, the life fading from him, I know I need to acknowledge that my stronghold is crumbling.
Mariya's sobs fill the space, her hands trembling as she clutches at Oskar. But there's no time for grief, not yet. With a heavy heart, I pull her up, her eyes meeting mine in a silent plea for something, anything, that resembles hope.
"This way," I say, guiding her toward the bookshelf that swings open to reveal a hidden passage. A wry laugh escapes me despite the dread that coils in my gut. "You were looking for an escape, right? Consider this the grand tour you never got."
She's right behind me, her presence a steady flame in the growing darkness as we slip into the tunnel. The walls are close, the air cold and musty, but it's the path to survival, away from the death that stalks our every step.
"If only I'd known about this earlier…" her voice trails off, a mix of irony and despair coloring her tone.
I don't look back; I can't afford to. The path ahead is uncertain, but it's the only one we've got. "Keep moving," I urge, the sounds of our pursuers a constant threat at our heels. Oskar's sacrifice won't be in vain. I swear it on everything I hold dear.
My hand closes tightly around Mariya's, our fingers interlocking as if our lives depended on it. We burst through the tunnel's exit, the air cold against my skin. Before us unfolds a ballet of violence, the rhythmic flash of gunfire punctuating the day.
"Anton, Pavel!" I call out to my remaining guards, recognizing their stances. They're a levy against the tide, their guns barking defiance at the encroaching Turks.
"Go, now!" Anton bellows over the cacophony, never taking his eyes off the threat as they advance. Pavel’s voice is grim as he reloads, a half-smile flickering on his face. "We'll buy you time. Take care of her, Boss."
Their words are heavy with unspoken finality. I've never been one for sentiment, but the loyalty of these men, their willingness to lay down their lives for ours, it stirs something deep within me.
"Pavel, Anton, dammit—" My protest dies in my throat as Anton cuts me off.
"This is the job, Damien. We knew what it was when we signed up. Now make it count!"
With a nod that's more of a salute than a goodbye, I turn, pulling Mariya with me. Her steps falter as the reality of our situation finally dawns on her.
The car is close, a sleek port in the storm. I usher Mariya in, the engine roaring to life beneath my hands. As we speed away, I catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror of Anton and Pavel standing firm, a final act of defiance.
Their gunfire is snuffed out one by one, but it's their courage that burns brightest, guiding us into the uncertainty of what lies ahead. We owe them our lives, and as we drive farther away from what was once a safe place, I silently vow that their names will be honored, and they, including Oskar, will not have died in vain.
Mariya's hand tightens in mine, her face a pale canvas of shock and resolve. We're out of immediate danger, but the day is far from over.
