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“I’ll show you,” he growls. He looks up at me. “But only if you let me blow his fucking head off—”
“No,” I snarl. I shake my head. “He’s mine.”
Anton purses his lips. But then he nods. “I should have let you kill him those years ago, Micheal. I’m sorry.”
“You can make it up to me now by bringing me to him.”
He frowns and nods. “I’ll show you.”
“Good.”
This time, I’m putting Pavel in the fucking ground.
18
Katrina
“Oni zdes!”The man by the window hisses. “They’re here!”
My stomach sinks. I want to scream. I know by them, he means Micheal. I want to yell to them that this is a trap and to run away. But the gag in my mouth stops me.
I glance around the crumbling old shipping warehouse. It’s full of men with guns; some I recognize as Anton’s guys. Some I don’t recognize. But I assume they’re with with the Ivanovich family.
I’m tied to a chair in the middle of the room, with a single light on me. I’m bait. The rest of the men are hidden in the shadows, or behind corners. Some are ducking down behind wooden shipping crates. They’ve all got guns trained on the only door inside.
I do scream when I hear car doors shut. But it’s useless. They’ll never hear me. Or worse, they will, and Micheal will come charging in. Fear tugs at me. I don’t want this. I don’t want to watch him die. My eyes well up, but I try and force the tears back. Crying isn’t going to solve this.
I grimace. Pavel is half right. Something about Michealhasmade me bolder. It’s made me less timid, more confident.
I glance around desperately. I have to warn them somehow. Michealhasto know that he’s walking into a trap. My eyes scan the room. A man a few yards away from me puffs on his cigarette. His eyes are on the door his gun is pointing at. He takes one more drag and then flicks the cigarette over his shoulder. It sits there smoldering on the floor.
My eyes focus on it. Then I keep scanning the room. I’m looking for something—anything—that might help. And then, I find it. The can of some kind of chemical is about ten feet from me, between me and the smoking man. I have no idea what’s inside. But I can definitely see the warning label with the fire symbol on the side of it.
I brace myself. I rock the chair to the side, and it creaks. I do it again. Two of the legs rise up and clap back down. One of the men glances at me.
“Quiet!” he hisses. But when he turns back, I do it again. The chair rocks over, then back down. I do it a third time. This time, I gasp when the whole chair tips over. I hit the floor hard. I wince. Stars swim across my vision. But when I glance down, I smile. The can of chemicals is less than a foot from my feet. And the fall has loosened the ropes on my ankles a little.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,devochka,” Pavel hisses. He walks over and stands over me. “Are you trying to escape?” He chuckles. A few of his men laugh quietly. “Well, you won’t. Believe me. You’re going to watch me kill your fucking husband. And then,” he sneers. “I’ll be taking you for myself.”
“I’m not trying to escape, you creep,” I mutter. But all he hears is muffled hisses through the gag.
“What is it , littledevochka?” He smiles lecherously. “Are you just getting used to being on your back for me?”
I smile thinly at him. I wiggle my ankle and the rope slips looser. “No, Pavel.” I think to myself. “I’m doing this.” I kick my foot out hard. My heel slams into the big gallon can of chemicals. It tips, and the clear liquid gushes out across the floor. The smell makes my eyes water instantly. But Pavel’s eyes widen. He watches the liquid rush across the floor towards the smoldering cigarette. He turns to me in horror. “You little cunt—”
I was expecting a fire. I wasn’t expecting a bomb exploding.
The blast knocks me sideways, and I scream. My ears are ringing. I blink and open my eyes, and I gasp. The entire warehouse is engulfed in flames. I mean holy crap, what was in that can? Napalm? Men are yelling and running all over the place. The flames creep up the support beams and lick the warehouse ceiling.
My face feels hot from the blast. I look down and gasp. My clothes and my hair or singed, too. I hear a scream of pain. I look up and blanche in horror. Pavel looks awful. He’s rolling on the ground trying to pat out the flames on his clothes. Half of his face looks pretty badly burned.
“You bitch!” he screams. “You little bitch!” He yanks a gun out of his belt. He staggers to his feet. But suddenly, the warehouse door smashes in. There are flames and smoke everywhere. But I’d know the shape that comes through the door first anywhere.
I’ve been dreaming about him for ten years, after all.
Gunfire erupts through the warehouse. Men yell and scream in pain. My legs are free, but my arms are still tied to the chair. I flinch and curl into a ball as best I can. The heat of the fire is overwhelming. Smoke fills my lungs. And suddenly, I’m having flashbacks.
I gasp in fear. Suddenly, it’s ten years go. I’m hiding from the gunfire while flames flicker over the walls. Panic grips me. My heart is racing too fast. The cry lodges in my throat.
