I just killed a man.
Me.
Nikolai may have slit his throat, but I placed the final nail in his coffin.
Sickened with remorse, I slump against the wall I’m chained to. I can’t breathe through the guilt clutching my throat. I’m seconds from asphyxiation.
“Ahren.” Since I’m at the furthest point of my tether, Nikolai can’t reach me. . . but his words can. “You did what needed to be done. There is no shame in that.”
My drenched eyes stray to his. “I-I-I killed him.”
“No,” Nikolai denies, shaking his head. “Yousavedme. And our baby. You did what needed to be done. You chose right.”
If I had the strength, I’d argue with him, but the cramps that rendered me near unconscious minutes ago haven’t weakened in the slightest. I’m either miscarrying or bleeding internally. I really hope it is the latter.
“What now?” I ask, desperate to get out of here.
Nikolai nudges his head to the frozen goon. “Check his pockets. He came in here to collect us, so he’d have keys for our locks.”
I lick my dry lips before doing as instructed.
Nikolai is right, he has a set of rusted padlock keys in his pocket.
“Toss them to me.”
Not even two seconds later, Nikolai frees himself from his constraints before dropping to his knees next to me. He removes the chains from my right wrist before pulling me into his chest. His familiar scent causes a flurry of new tears to sting my eyes. It hurts knowing I ended the life of another, but in all honesty, I’d do it again if it achieved the same outcome.
Nikolai’s hot breath fans my temple when he murmurs, “Let’s get you out of here.”
He waits for me to nod before gathering my hand in the one not clutching his weapon. He holds it as possessively as he does me. It may only be a shard of metal, but it is the only thing we have standing between us and a dozen men determined to kill us.
While pressing his finger to his lips, Nikolai peers out the partially cracked open door. I hear his teeth grind together when the door gives out a squeak upon opening. It’s loud, but not loud enough to be heard over the jubilant cheers of drunken men celebrating a victory they have not yet won.
After crawling through the tight opening, Nikolai helps me out. In silence, he surveys the area. Since a majority of the noise is coming from our left, we head to our right. Blood is pumping through Nikolai’s veins so hard and fast, I can feel it through our conjoined hands. He wants to go on a rampage, but since getting me to safety is more critical than his need to kill, he’s moving away from the men he wants to maim.
As we weave through the industrial-sized airport hangar, I try to get my footsteps to match Nikolai’s noiseless ones. It’s virtually impossible. I sound like an elephant trampling through Africa. It isn’t because the Popov’s housemaids have added a few pounds to my frame the past twelve months; it’s because every step I take is done in pain.
“Just a little further,Ahren,” Nikolai assures as his hand clutching his shiv darts up to slow the blood oozing from his wound.
I’d caution him to be careful, but I doubt his knife could inflict any more damage to his shoulder. It’s hanging by a thread, the mottling of his skin indicating it’s infected.
Our stomps across the sloshy ground quicken when a Russian curse word shrills through the night. It’s closely followed by the news that we’ve escaped.
We’re about to dart through a stack of old airplane parts when a mouse-like voice says, “This way.”
Maya is standing in the shadows, gesturing with her hand for us to follow her. Her face is marked with tears, but their angry red streaks can’t hide the handprint covering a majority of her left cheek.
With my trust low but my desperation high, I wordlessly suggest for Nikolai to accept Maya’s assistance. We’re already in dire straits, so I can’t see matters getting any worse.
“Quickly,” Maya begs in French while steering us through the dense forest situated next to the hangar.
I understand her urgency. The further we travel, the louder the bark of angry dogs become. My worst nightmare is coming true. I’m running in the dark, striving to outrace the beast who’s already scarred me. And that’s not the worst of it. Nikolai is losing a lot of blood—more than enough to kill him.
“Here. Go.” Maya shoves a set of keys into my hand before nudging her head to an old truck barely visible in the pitch-black sky. “Quickly.”
With Nikolai barely coherent, I clutch the keys, hug Maya for some inane reason, then make my way to the driver’s seat. Nikolai attempts a protest, but a bullet whizzing past his head steals his words. He lurches into the passenger seat before demanding that I floor it.
For an old truck, it’s quick off the mark. We go shooting down a bumpy dirt road within a nanosecond, our tails chased by men on all-terrain vehicles.
