Page 88 of Devil’s Reign

I catch sight of him stepping out of his hiding place beneath the mezzanine, and the sight of him is almost surreal. He looks steady and calm, his face pulled into the coldest glare I've seen on a person outside of Aleksei as he continues firing his gun in controlled bursts that force the men to scramble for cover. Outnumbered doesn’t seem to mean anything to him. He advances anyway, tip of his gun smoking, shot after shot driving them back. The men fire wildly in return, the warehouse erupting in chaos.

Bullets suddenly rip into the pallets, ricocheting with sharp metallic snaps before clattering to the concrete floor. I jerk back as splinters spray through the gap, my breath snagging in my throat. Beside me, Vanya mutters a low curse and draws a gun from the small of his back.

Then Aleksei emerges from the shipping container, already firing, his face frozen in that same cold expression he turned on me earlier. He shoots with ruthless calm, his shots accurate and fast. More men drop to the ground, dead, before they can react. The ones still standing shout to each other in disbelief, their voices pitching up in shock as they realize they’re under fire from two sides.

“It’s an ambush!” someone screams in panicked Italian. “Get out, get out⁠—”

They scatter for the door, but Dimitri and Aleksei chase them with gunfire at their backs, cutting them down as they run.

“Stay here.” Vanya’s clipped voice pierces through the noise. I stare at him, wide-eyed, wanting to grab him, but he’s already stepping out from my side with his gun raised.

My chest aches so sharply it steals the air from my lungs. Every instinct screams to follow, to pull him back and keep him safe, but I’m frozen, forced to watch as he disappears into the storm of bullets and shouting.

I press myself harder against the pallet stack, my muscles trembling. The narrow crack in front of me blurs with tears, but I don’t dare look away.

He’ll be fine.

I cling to it like a lifeline. He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll⁠—

A stray bullet whizzes past, punching through the wood inches from my face and showering me in splinters. Pain flares hot as one slices my cheek. I drop to my knees, hands over my head, a terrified scream tearing out of me that vanishes entirely beneath the thunder of gunfire.

The cold concrete bites into my knees, but the air feels hot, thick with the smell of gunpowder and sawdust. My whole body shakes uncontrollably as I curl in on myself, pressing my hands hard over my ears, trying to block it out. But there’s no blocking this out. Because the gunfire doesn’t stop. It rolls on like a violent storm, so loud it rattles my bones. Around me, the pallets splinter under stray rounds, chunks breaking away, dust choking my throat. This isn’t cover anymore. It’s a grave waiting to happen.

I press my palms to the floor and start crawling, dragging myself out from behind the stack, every nerve screaming at me to move faster. The rough concrete scrapes my knees raw, but I keep going, head down, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

I’m halfway across when something strange at the warehouse door catches my eye. A man—one of theirs—slips in from outside. He’s hunched, blood streaking his face, his movements frantic. But he isn’t shooting. He isn’t even looking at the fight. His hand is moving inside his coat. My gut twists as a feeling of foreboding washes over me.

The object he pulls out is small and dark and oval-shaped, and my brain identifies it before I can even process it. I've only ever seen one in movies. Time slows as he yanks the pin and throws it straight into the middle of the warehouse.

“Grenade!” someone screams, the word cutting clean through the chaos.

I whip my head towards Vanya—but he’s already looking at me. For a heartbeat, everything else disappears. His blue eyes lock on mine, wide with a fear so deep and raw it doesn’t look like him at all. My chest caves in on itself.

Then he moves. Breaks into a full sprint, barreling towards me like sheer will is enough to outrun the blast radius. His mouth opens, my name forming on his lips, but I can’t hear it, can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears.

He doesn’t make it to me. The grenade detonates with a deafening blast that rattles my teeth. The shockwave slams into me, yanking me off my hands and knees and throwing me back to the concrete so hard it drives all the air from my body at once.

Everything goes white, then black, then nothing.

I come back in pieces.

The first thing I’m aware of is the thick, crushing silence and the high, distant ringing somewhere deep in my skull. Smoke hangs in the air in heavy, drifting curtains, dust still falling. I blink and blink again, and the shapes around me slowly stop swimming.

Then I see him. Vanya. He’s on the ground, thrown clear by the blast, his body completely still as debris rains down all around him.

A crack splits the air above me, and I tip my head back and watch the roof beams give. One by one, then all at once, the structure folds in on itself in a cascade of steel and dust and a roar that shakes the floor beneath me.

My lips part in a silent scream, my throat burning, locked tight around a sound that refuses to come.

44

MELANI

I wake up choking. My throat feels scraped raw, every inhale dragging burning smoke into my lungs.

Heat presses against me from all sides, heavy and suffocating, and when I blink my eyes open, they sting so badly they water instantly.

The warehouse is a blur, the shapes swallowed by a thick haze, hot flickering orange light casting shadows that dance like the building itself is alive, on fire—because it is.