We’re running out of time.
I blink, my eyes burning from the smoke, when Rafail yanks open a hidden panel in the floor.There it is.A trapdoor.
Rodion leads the way. Semyon takes Yana’s hand, I take Zoya’s, and Rafail stands sentry at the back.
Even though Rafail can’t talk, his gestures are unmistakable as he stabs a finger in the direction ahead. He shoves me in before sliding in behind us. We crawl quickly. The door leads to a tunnel barely wide enough for Rafail. Smoke follows us, but it’s lighter and less dense the further we go.
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.Allof 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 nightexplodes.
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 asfar 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.
