Page 133 of Winterveil

“Not yet,” she replied, her own voice a rasp. “There’s still time. . . .”

Neither of them had a watch, so there was no way to tell how many minutes remained. How long they waited, staring up at the sky. It was a navy blue painted with striations of orange-gold.

And then—there it was. The sound of helicopter blades.

Relief almost made Nadiya slump to her knees. She held her breath as the helicopter came into view. It was a plain, gleaming black, not unlike the one they had arrived in, but she didn’t know what else she had expected—the Joyce-Young crest painted on the side like a sports team logo?

The helicopter hovered just above them and began its slow descent. The wind whipped Nadiya’s hair across her face, partially obscuring her vision.

“Hey! Get away from there!”

Chane’s security guards burst through the door and onto the roof. Four of them, guns drawn. Their chests were heaving, and their clothes were spattered with blood.

Nadiya considered lunging for the helicopter, but it wasn’t close enough yet. Instead, she grasped Giselle’s hand and ran, as fast as she could to the other end of the roof

The darkness and the wind gave them some cover. Nadiya ran in a darting path, dragging Giselle after her. Bullets cracked the air. She darted behind one of the box vents and pushed Giselle onto her knees.

“Stay down,” she ordered.

Giselle whimpered. Nadiya peeked over the top of the vent. One of the guards was charging, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Nadiya cocked her gun and aimed. She had done this a hundred times before—a thousand. In the shooting range, staring down the steel target. But none of that had been real.

The man before her was flesh and blood. If she landed her shot where she aimed it, in that small groove between the Kevlar padding, the bullet would slice apart his muscles, splinter his bones, and stop his heart.

Her grasp on the gun faltered. What was wrong with her? Why was she hesitating now, when it really mattered? A powerful surge of anger rose up in her. Nadiya adjusted her aim and fired.

The bullet flew. Blood spurted. The guard crumpled to his knees, gripping his shoulder and moaning. Nadiya had only clipped him. He would survive.

As she lowered her gun, fingers shaking, the guards converged on them. Her heart skipped its beats. One of the guards fired and the bullet whizzed past her head, making her ears ring. She wanted to fire back, but she couldn’t find the shot.

“Turn yourselves in!” one of the guards shouted, over the roar of the helicopter blades. “We’re shooting to kill!”

It was a bluff—it had to be. But Nadiya’s stomach dropped.

She fired off another shot, a warning, a distraction. Then she grasped Giselle by her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

They ran. Ducking behind vents where they could, heels scuffling in the asphalt. Nadiya skidded to a halt at the edge of the roof just before they toppled over it.

There was another roof below, but it was a fifteen-foot drop. Maybe twenty. The wind raked over them. Nadiya turned to Giselle. Tears glistened on her cheeks but her gaze was set.

“Bend your knees,” Nadiya told her.

And then they jumped.

Time seemed to warp, to slow. The wind was so strong that it held them momentarily in suspension. Nadiya was only vaguely aware of another bullet slicing the air.

They landed on their feet, with a single heavy thud. Giselle was panting, shaking, but she looked unharmed. Nadiya felt the briefest flicker of relief.

“Come on,” she urged, tugging at Giselle’s wrist.

There was a door just ahead and all Nadiya could do was hope it wasn’t locked. She tried to run, but Giselle froze in place and gasped out, “Wait, Nadiya! You’re bleeding!”

Nadiya looked down. Blood was rushing in a torrent down her thigh.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Come on, let’s go!”

“But—”