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Serg finally surrenders, but only after he makes his distaste clear.
“Stand,” Astra orders Alek. With a pained grunt, he does. “Kiss me.”
Without delay, Alek gently cups her cheek and presses his lips to hers. She moans into his mouth, standing on tippy toes to reach his full height. The kiss is hardly chaste, and my cheeks redden from not only the cold. I wonder if maybe their past included being romantically involved at one point?
Once they’re done, Astra pulls away, wiping her lips with two fingers. She hums in delight. “Okay, I will let your pet live.” My relief is short-lived when she inhales before commanding, “On your knees.”
I have no idea what she means until she turns around and directs her attention to Zoey and Pavel. “You’re the reason Borya is dead, so as I see it, you should both pay.”
“No!” I cry out, running toward them. But when a man wraps his arm around my middle to stop me, it’s evident I’m not going anywhere. A hollowed scream tears from Saint as he tries to protect me, but he is knocked to the snow and kicked repeatedly.
“I said on your knees!” she screams, clutching the top of her cane. “Unless you have a problem with them dying, Aleksei?”
“Alek, say something!” I plead, begging he save their lives. He doesn’t know I have a bulletproof vest, but regardless, he shouldn’t roll over this way. He needs to fight for not only my life, but for the lives of Zoey and Pavel who risked theirs to save his.
But he doesn’t. He simply shakes his head, condemning them to death. “I’m sorry.” His apology is heartfelt, but it’s not good enough. “Please forgive me, Zoey, Pavel, for the wrong I’ve done.”
When both Pavel and Zoey refuse to obey, four men beat them into submission. Zoey doesn’t stand a chance and falls with a thud, sobbing when she eventually complies. Pavel puts up a fight, but ultimately, he too is forced to kneel. Men bend his arms backward, threatening to break them if he moves.
A brawny man with cold, black eyes cocks his gun and places it to Zoey’s temple. Fat tears trickle down her cheeks as she locks gazes with Saint. “It’s okay, Saint. It’ll be o-okay. I love y-you. I’m s-sorry I didn’t tell you that more often. Tell Mom and Dad I’m so s-sorry. Thank you for never giving up on me. It’s now my turn…to save you.”
“No!” he cries, clawing at the snow. He attempts to rise but continues getting beaten down.
Zoey’s eyes meet mine. “For what it’s worth, Willow…I love and hate you all in the same breath. Look after my brother.”
“Don’t you dare give up! Fight!” I shout at her, kicking and clawing at my captor, but his grip is tight. There is no way I’m escaping. Ingrid is about ten feet away from a car, and when she looks at me with a nod, I know what she’s going to do. How didn’t I see it sooner?
Ingrid took that bomb with the intent to save us by blowing herself up. That explains why she discarded the vest. She never had any intention of coming out of this alive. She had to time it perfectly not to turn any heads when she snuck into a car and used the gas as extra ammo to kill as many of these motherfuckers as she could.
Why didn’t she just detonate it when she was within reach? It’s because she knows this is our fight, this is the reason we’re here. For Oscar and Astra to pay for what they did and pay by Saint’s hand. If she were to detonate when at Oscar’s feet, this would have been for nothing.
She has sacrificed everything for us because this has given us half a chance. She knew if we went in, guns blazing, we’d die, but this bomb is a distraction. But this plan will result in her death. And I can’t allow that to happen.
“Oh my god, no!” I shriek to her, to Astra, to everyone. “Alek, don’t let them kill her!” I’m not just speaking about Zoey. “Please!”
“I’m sorry, ???????. But I won’t allow you to die.”
My pleas are useless. He sees this sacrifice as saving me, but I don’t want to be saved. Not like this. We need an out, and we need one now. I can’t allow Ingrid to do this. With adrenaline and fire burning through my veins, I strike my head backward and connect with my attacker’s nose.
I don’t have time to celebrate in the noise. I scramble for the gun he dropped, my cold fingers clenching the cool metal of the grip, and I aim for the man with the gun pointed at Zoey. Saint manages to fight free and dives for Zoey.
All I register is a guttural scream and an earsplitting boom before I feel a pain tear at my chest.
The air whooshes from my lungs as I’m propelled backward, thanks to the bullet to my chest. For a split second, I believe I’m dead, but the bullet has just lodged in my bulletproof vest. I’m sure of it. I want to pat myself down to be sure, but I have the upper hand as they think I’m dead.
“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks!” Oscar’s snide comment alerts me that he was the one who shot me.
But that’s okay. This is the distraction we need to stop Ingrid from doing something stupid.
Everything is going to be okay.
Or so I thought.
I don’t understand what I’m hearing because it doesn’t make any sense. “Zoey…c’mon, wake up. Please, wake up.”
Wake up?
I hear these words followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Why is Saint shouting? Zoey is okay.
