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She nodded again.
“I need your words, Irina.”
“Understood,” she murmured, her eyes meeting mine boldly. I saw unwavering strength in them, and I felt renewed hope that we were going to make it out of here. All of us.
Valerie and Irina, the two caged birds. I was getting them the fuck out of here.
Gripping Valerie’s hand in mine, I looked down at her bruised face. Our gazes met, her hazel eyes speaking a thousand unsaid words. I tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear and gave her the smallest smile. She trusted me. She believed in me.
“We are going to be okay, myshka.”
And then I was pulling both women out of the room. The path was clear for me, the men I had taken care of before coming here, their dead bodies were laid out in front of me. Useless and lifeless.
I wasn’t sure if it was Valerie or Irina who gasped at the bloody scene, but none of them said a word as we ran. Valerie’s room was in the far west end of the estate. We moved from one corridor to another, the little labyrinth slowing us down. I had planned well beforehand. It should take us exactly seven minutes to escape through the back door, starting from Valerie’s bedroom.
Erik said he had me covered up. He was the one I went to when I needed help to take down Valentin. He was in for the game—said it’d been too boring lately and he needed some fun. I knew he was an expert when it came to bombs and all kinds of explosives. He’d handle everything in the background, and he promised to lend me some of his men as back-up.
I could see the stairs looming closer to us. Get down, get past the chaos there, and walk out.
There were several more screams. More gunshots sounded, some far, some closer. Too close for my liking.
I had cleared most of my path before coming to Valerie. With a quick look over my shoulder, I confirmed that Irina was at my heels.
And it was exactly when I noticed—I fucked up.
Time slowed.
The world faded away, creating an illusion of darkness. Shit. Shit. SHIT.
I could feel the beats of my heart drumming against my ribcage. Blood roared and pounded in my ears and through my veins.
Valerie screamed. Irina stalled, her eyes widening.
A loud, deafening gunshot sounded through the chaos.
Irina stumbled forward and sank to her knees.
My gaze met the man behind her, the one holding the gun—the one with a scar over his eyes. He was bloodied, enraged…alive. I killed him before…or so I thought.
It took me two seconds to react. Two seconds too late.
I drew my armed Glock up, my fingers wrapping around the handle, and I pointed the barrel at the fucker.
Too. Fucking. Late.
Everything happened in slow motion. Two gunshots roared through.
One from mine.
One from his.
My knees buckled, and I almost went down if it weren’t for Valerie holding me up. Her sobbing reached my ears, her fingers dug into the flesh of my arms, and she was screaming something incoherent.
Pain spread through my right leg, the burning sensation almost felt like a hole had been torn right through the flesh of my thigh and little fucking worms were eating the inside of me. It burned like a motherfucker, and I looked down to see blood seeping through my black slacks.
I had been shot before. But it sure as hell wasn’t something to get used to. Nah, this shit hurt like hell.
“Irina!” Valerie bellowed. She let go of my arm and went to her friend. Irina had been shot in her legs too. Twice.
The fucker had been trying to cripple us.
She was bleeding profusely, shaking and whimpering. Irina grasped Valerie’s hand in hers, and I stumbled forward to where both women were kneeling on the floor.
Irina’s gaze met mine, her eyes dark and shining, but she wasn’t crying. I knew she must have been in agony; her body was trembling and shaking with tremors and the aftershock of being shot. But she wasn’t crying.
No. Irina lifted her chin up, she stared at me—hard and determined.
“Do you remember what you promised me?” she croaked out through dry, cracked lips.
Valerie was muttering something to both of us, but Irina focused on me.
“Do you remember, Viktor?” she asked again.
Valerie started pulling on Irina’s arm, trying to pull her up. She urged her friend to stand up, to run.
But Irina couldn’t run.
Not with her legs. Not with her broken arm. I could see the weakness of her body, life slowly fading away.
“Yes, I remember.”
Irina nodded. “Good. Then keep your promise.”
Fuck no.
“Forget that shit. I’ll carry you.”
I limped forward and bent down, but she weakly pushed my hands away. She sent me a tiny smile, sadness seeping through it. “No, you can’t. We both know it. Your leg is injured too. Your shoulder is bleeding and you need your right hand free so you can use your gun. You can’t carry me.”
