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“Nikolai!” I roar. No answer.
I rush up the grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time. As I reach the second floor, the silence that greets me tells me that I’m not going to find anyone up here. I sprint to Nikolai’s workroom anyway. When I shove the door open, I’m met by the sight of my son’s abandoned work table. Objects are scattered across the surface, and his small chair has been overturned.
My heart stops. Spinning around, I quickly determine that the room is empty. They’ve left. I can only pray that Scarlett had the presence of mind to get them to safety when the commotion began.
Guilt flickers through my chest.
Scarlett. I dragged her into this. But before I can dwell on it, a scream rings out from outside. I recognize my son’s terrified voice in an instant. Racing to the window, I see a group of dark-clothed men barrelling across the lawn to a small cluster of trees.
Fuck!
That must be where Scarlett has taken Nikolai. Out of the house. Smart move, but now that they’ve found her, she and Nikolai will be sitting ducks.
I poke my head out of the room and I glance down the hallway to check that it’s clear before moving stealthily to the exit that leads out to the back stairs. I can hear shouts in the house now, and I’m fairly certain that the rest of our attackers must be looking for me.
I have to get to Nikolai!
Bursting through the door, I vault down the stairs, reaching the ground floor in less time than it takes to think of what to do next. My heart pounds as I hear another scream, this one decidedly more feminine.
Scarlett.
I emerge in the garden and sprint over the grass toward the trees I’d seen earlier. And there they are. Scarlett and Nikolai are surrounded by a group of armed men, but she’s facing them down like a lioness. I’m just in time to see one of the bastards grab a fistful of Scarlett’s hair, yanking her backward. Her terrified shriek tears through me like a knife.
“Stop!” The word leaves my lips in a roar, rage boiling up from deep within my chest. Images of Katya’s bleeding body flicker in the back of my mind, propelling me forward. I can’t let that happen to Scarlett. I can’t lose her too. It can’t happen again.
Raising my weapon, I draw a line on one of the men closest to me. One shot is all it takes to fell him. The men whirl to face me, momentarily distracted. It’s a distraction that doesn’t serve me well. The leader swings up a pistol. There’s a sharp explosion and then a searing pain in my thigh as a bullet tears through it. I feel myself sag, but pull myself upright, clamping a hand over torn flesh. From what I can tell, the lead went straight through. It’s probably the best possible outcome, but it’s little comfort when I’m practically hamstrung.
“Anton!” Scarlett screams. Nikolai is huddled nearby, curled up in a ball.
“Get out of here!” I yell at Scarlett, praying that she’ll get free while I keep the fuckers occupied. Balancing on my uninjured leg, I get off another shot, taking out the bastard who just shot a bullet through me.
It’s all the opportunity Scarlett needs. With a swift jerk of her head, she cracks her skull against her captor’s nose. There’s a spurt of blood and a howl of pain as the man stumbles back, clutching at his face.
Scarlett wastes no time. She scoops up a startled Nikolai and dashes behind the largest tree, using it as a shield.
Three men advance on me, hatred etched into their features. My leg burns where the bullet hit, but I grit my teeth against the pain. I don’t care about the pain. All I care about is that I have to keep them away from my son. From Scarlett.
“You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Ulianov,” the tallest sneers, pulling a knife from his belt. The blade glints under the pale moonlight. “But your fucking games end tonight.”
They circle me like vultures, waiting for the right moment to strike. My hands clench around the pistol, but I only have a few shots left. Not enough to take out all three of them.
I glance over at the tree where Scarlett and Nikolai are hiding, praying they’ll stay out of sight. My son peeks around the trunk, eyes wide with terror, and I shake my head fiercely at him. Get back. Stay hidden.
The knife-wielding bastard lunges at me with a snarl, and I fire off a shot that clips his shoulder. He stumbles but keeps coming, and I barrel into him with my shoulder. We crash to the ground, rolling through the underbrush as we grapple for control of the knife.
I punch him in the throat and throw him off, but the other two are on me before I can get up. A boot connects with my wounded leg and I shout in agony, vision going white with pain. The back of my head cracks against something hard, and warm blood trickles down my neck. I’m sure I just broke a nose.
These guys are heavyweights. They don’t go down easy like Yuri’s crew. The fight devolves into a mess of fists and grunts and cracked bones. I struggle to remain conscious through the onslaught, fueled only by the thought of protecting my son. Protecting Scarlett.
“The bastard won’t die!” I hear someone cry out.
That’s right, motherfucker!
The blade I took from the first of the men is just a silver arc through the air as I slash through a throat. Blood sprays, spattering my face, but I don’t bother to wipe it away. My enemies be looking into the maddened eyes of a killer wearing the gore of their own fallen comrades. That in itself is enough to drive fear into the most hardened hearts.
And it works. With the knife in one hand and my Tokarev in the other, I cut a swathe through the remaining men until I reach the tree that Scarlett and Nikolai had ducked behind. There’s another shout from the house and my gut clenches when I see a fresh wave of attackers running in our direction. I don’t know how much I have left in me, but surrender isn’t an option.
“Take him, he’s too heavy for me!” I hear Scarlett say hoarsely. I glance around to see her thrusting my son toward me. With just a curt nod, I hook an arm around his small waist and haul him over my shoulder, just as a shot rings out.
