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Boom!
An explosion rocks the house, blowing the roof tiles into the air. Billows of orange burst through the windows, creating heatwaves over the white landscape. Flames leap into the air, their black-tipped tongues curling with smoke.
“Come on,” I say to Dimitri. “There’s nothing left here.” Physically or emotionally.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“Go with Yuri and Igor. I’ll follow.” I need to be alone with Katerina.
“Straight home or via the hospital?” he asks, glancing at my side again.
“Home.” Katerina can stitch me up there. “Meet us at the house.”
“We’ll start interrogating Stefanov’s men,” he says, already making his way to the car where Yuri waits. “We’ll determine who’ll come over and whom we need to get rid of.”
Straightening, Igor puts out the cigarette and drops the butt in his pocket. He gives me a respectful nod before getting into the car with Dimitri and Yuri.
I stand in the road as they pull off, watching their car until they turn the corner. It feels a lot like the end, like closing a chapter that didn’t end happily. After that last full stop lies hope. A new page. Time to let go of the past and move on.
Galina is on her own, but she has what my mother didn’t have—her life and her children. How she builds her new future is up to her. In a warped sense, that has a ring of freedom to it.
I owe Mikhail a call to tell him what’s gone down. But not now. I’ll call him when we get home.
Impatient to be with Katerina, I close the distance with hurried steps. Even as I grip the door handle, sirens sound in the distance.
She gives me the minutest shake of her head, tears pouring down her face as I get in beside her.
I close the door and lay the gun in the console. “Hey.” Cupping her face, I drag her closer. “It’s over. You’re all right. We’re going to be fine.”
A shadow that moves in the back catches my eye. In a flash, I understand Katerina’s reaction, that slight shake of her head.
Someone is hiding in the back.
A man sits up. “Famous last words.”
Fighting instinct takes over, but before I can dig my fingers into his eyes, he presses a gun against Katerina’s temple.
My insides shake with fury. The sight of that gun against her head makes me want to break every finger of the hand clutching the gun before shooting out the man’s brains.
Engulfed with helpless anger, I meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. He has square features and blond hair. I recognize him before he says, “The name is Ivan Besov. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Alexander Volkov.”
37
Kate
The barrel of the gun is cold against my temple. I stare at the one Alex left in the console. How quickly can I grab it?
“Tsk, tsk,” Besov says, reaching between the seats for Alex’s gun.
“You’re a dead man,” Alex grits out.
Besov laughs. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one with the weapons.”
Alex turns in his seat. “What do you want?”
Besov shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you here?” Alex asks with a glacier stare.
“I never leave a job unfinished.” Besov smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “And I never fail. It’s not good for my professional reputation. Besides, you’ve been such a challenging prey. It’ll be an honor to finally kill you.”
Blinking back my tears, I glare at him. He must’ve slipped into the car while the action was going down in the house. Igor and I—everyone—had been too distracted to think about searching the cars. It wasn’t until I was already inside the vehicle that I realized I wasn’t alone.
“The police will be here soon,” Alex says.
The lights of the sirens are already visible in the distance.
“Drive,” Besov says, pushing the barrel harder against my temple.
Alex gives me a reassuring smile. His voice is soft. “Put on your seatbelt, Katerina.”
It’s easy to follow his order. It’s always been easy to follow him. He’s the kind of leader people trust.
He secures his own seatbelt before starting the engine. “Where do you want me to go?”
“Back to the main road,” Besov says, lowering the gun to my side. “Left at the intersection.”
Alex’s knuckles turn white as he grips the wheel. His body is like a tightly coiled spring, but he drives smoothly, turning the car around and heading toward the main road. We go left just as the police cars round the bend and speed down the road.
I crane my neck to look at them as we drive in the opposite direction, my heart pounding. Maybe I can flag one of the men.
Besov nudges me in the ribs with the gun. “Eyes in the front.”
Not having a choice, I face forward. Anyway, what would I have said if the police had stopped us? Alex just blew up Stefanov’s house. With Stefanov inside it.
