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We carve a path to the back of Alexander’s house. Rooster has a team watching the front of the house to make sure Mikhail can’t escape with Cora and I have my own contingent flanking the sides of the property.
My only goal is to get inside and find Cora.
But there are more guards than we bargained for and the going is slow. Luckily, they aren’t heavily armed. They probably didn’t expect much of a fight in the middle of the night.
That was their mistake.
I fire wildly to keep them at bay. One by one, they start to topple and die.
Distantly, I hear another loud boom. Rolling the motorcycle bomb into Alexander’s backyard had been Rooster’s idea. The man was practically giddy when he suggested it.
“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to use my invention,” he said. “This is it. Let me try.”
When I agreed, his wife, Legs, rolled her eyes. “I swear, he won’t be happy until he dies in a fiery blaze.”
Based on the whoop of celebration I hear coming from the front of the house, she isn’t so far off.
A new wave of guards come sprinting around the side of the house. I hear Yasha curse behind me. This might really be it. We can’t fight all of these men alone.
Then I realize why they are running.
A motorcycle engine roars around the house, and I see Rooster driving while Legs sits behind him holding…holy shit, she’s throwing Molotov cocktails. Behind them, a guard is rolling in the grass to put out the flames engulfing his body.
“They are fucking crazy,” Yasha laughs. He’s panting and bloody, but he pushes me towards the patio. “Go get your girl. We’ve got it out here.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice.
I sprint for the patio and then slow down as I approach the blown-out doors. We have the exterior handled, but what’s going on inside is a mystery. The maid I hired as a spy was fired for trying to gain access to the interior cameras. Mikhail could be holding Cora hostage. Maybe she’s already…
No.
I’m going to find her. Alive.
I step through the door gun first. Glass crunches under my boot. It’s wild how much quieter it is inside. I can still hear Legs screaming and the whine of the motorcycle, but it’s muffled and far away. My senses have narrowed in on the space in front of me. On the only goal that matters.
Then I see it.
A glimpse of white lace from behind the sofa.
“Cora.” I speak her name without thinking. It’s a reflex. She’s here. She’s moving.
She peeks around the back of the couch, eyes wide. “Ivan?”
It’s really her. She’s alive. She’s here. I have her.
Then her voice cracks. “Ivan, watch—”
A guard jumps in front of me with a battle cry, cutting off Cora’s warning.
He isn’t large or particularly skilled, but he has the advantage of surprise. I should have cleared the room first, but I was so set on getting to her.
Now, he is too close for me to safely take a shot. Especially with Cora in the room. I haven’t come this far just to let her get taken out by a stray bullet.
The man charges me back into the fireplace. The hard edge of the stone cuts into my spine.
I use the moment to holster my second gun, freeing up one hand. Then I launch myself at themudak.
He focuses on securing my gun hand, holding it back above my head while I kick out at him. The heel of my boot connects with his ribs and I hear a satisfying crack. He cries out and twists my wrist. Pain flares, but I’m able to get out of his hold before anything is broken, spinning around so I can drive a knee into his stomach.
