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Damien
A few minutes earlier…
As I breach the side entrance of the compound, my heart is a war drum in my chest, pounding with a singular goal—find Mariya. The weight of the gun in my hand is almost like a steady anchor keeping me grounded. I’ve attached a silencer to muffle the sound and to hopefully give me time to advance before I’m found out. My eyes scan the dimly lit corridor, the memory of the thug’s description of the place my only guide in this maze of hell.
I've done my homework, but no amount of preparation can fully prepare me for the real thing. There is profound uncertainty ahead, and silence is deceptive before the inevitable storm.
The first guard appears around the corner, his weapon drawn. I aim and fire, taking him out with one shot. As I navigate the twisting hallways, every shadow and sound could be an ambush. I slide along walls; my movements are both stealthy and urgent.
I round another bend, and two guards come into view, talking quietly. They haven't noticed me yet. I close the distance, fast and silent. Two more down.
My phone vibrates softly, a notification from the map app, reminding me of my route. I'm close, so close I can almost feel her presence. The adrenaline surges through me like a fiery torrent. I've faced worse odds before, but this time it's personal. This time, it's Mariya.
The compound may be a fortress, but every fortress has its weaknesses, and I exploit them, using every trick I've learned over the years. Another guard rounds the corner, and I take him down with a chokehold, easing him to the ground as his consciousness slips away.
I keep moving, my steps measured, my breathing controlled. The map shows a series of rooms up ahead—one of them has to be where they're keeping her. My grip on the gun tightens, determination etched into every line of my body. I'm outnumbered, outgunned, but I don't care. They took something precious from me, and I'm here to take it back.
I hear voices as I approach the rooms. I press my back against the wall, listening. The voices are too muffled to make out, but they signal life and potential. I check my weapon, ensuring it's ready for what comes next.
Then, with a deep breath to steady my nerves, I step into the open, ready to face whatever awaits me. I’m going to find Mariya, get her out, and make them regret ever crossing paths with me.
I push open the door to a room that looks more like a small clinic than a holding cell. It's sterile and cold, with medical equipment neatly arranged. A doctor, her back turned to me, is busy organizing supplies.
"Where's Mariya's room?" I demand. She jumps, startled, and turns to face me. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of the gun in my hand.
"Who are you?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mix of fear and curiosity.
"I'm her husband," I reply tersely, not in the mood for a prolonged conversation.
A strange expression flickers across the doctor's face, a mix of recognition and something else I can't quite place. I don't have time to ponder it, however. Her next words refocus my attention.
"She’s on the third floor, end of the hallway on the right. Go, now!" There's an urgency in her tone that doesn't escape me.
I don't waste another second. I sprint to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, my mind racing. I should have guessed they'd be keeping her on the top floor, harder to reach.
I burst onto the third floor, my eyes immediately searching. The corridor is eerily quiet; the only sound is my own heavy breathing. I find the last room on the right, my heart pounding hard against my ribcage. I'm ready for a fight, and I will tear the room apart if I have to.
But when I swing the door open, the scene before me is not what I expected. The room is empty, save for two guards lying unconscious on the floor. There's no sign of a struggle. It looks like they were taken down swiftly and efficiently.
A small, proud smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I realize what's happened. Mariya. She broke out herself. The thought fills me with a mix of admiration and frustration. I don’t know whether or not she’s safe, and I have no idea where she is. Hopefully, she’s on the move, and nobody has discovered her yet.
My smile fades as I realize that finding her in this sprawling compound just got a lot harder. She could be anywhere, and with the entire place most likely alerted to my presence by now, we're both in more danger than ever.
I quickly check the guards for keys or anything useful, finding a security card and a walkie-talkie. I pocket them both, my mind already calculating the next move. The walkie-talkie could be my key to tracking her down if they're talking about her.
I step back into the hallway, my senses heightened. Every second counts so much more now. I need to find her before they do before this whole place locks down.
I move swiftly down the corridor, my ears tuned to the static crackle of the walkie-talkie.
I race upstairs, pushing myself to the limit, my steps echoing in the empty hallway. My destination is the rooftop garden, a sweeping expanse of greenery that overlooks the sprawling city of Istanbul. The night air hits me as I burst through the door, the city lights sprawling out like a jeweled tapestry beneath me. It's breathtaking, but I have no time to admire the view.
I rush to the edge of the balcony, my eyes scanning the space below for any sign of Mariya. The area is vast, dotted with buildings and passages that could hide anyone. But there's no sign of her, no hint of movement that suggests her presence.
My heart pounds in frustration and fear. She could be anywhere, lost within the compound, or worse, recaptured. I strain my eyes, searching desperately, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Suddenly, I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps and hushed voices. I turn sharply, my hand gripping the gun tighter. A dozen or more of Ahmet's men have arrived on the rooftop, their guns drawn and pointed at me.
I take a defensive stance, well aware that the odds are stacked against me. The situation appears dire, an inevitable standoff with no clear escape. I can see it in their eyes—they're not taking any chances, and I know I’m not talking my way out of this one.
