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The second blast shatters the elegant windows of the gallery, sending chunks of concrete and splinters of wood flying in all directions. I’m knocked down again, and the concussive force—deep and raw—reverberates through me as if I’m a tuning fork. My ears ring from the noise and nausea threatens to overwhelm me. I open my eyes and see nothing but plumes of white smoke.
The sound of shrieks around me becomes muffled, as if they’re coming from underwater. I glance around, eyes stinging from the smoke.
“Larissa!” I cough as I yell, but my voice sounds quiet—like a whisper among a storm. “Lara!” I shout again.
Screams pierce the air, a cacophony of terror and panic as people scramble for their lives. Blinding smoke fills the building, and it is difficult to see more than a few feet in front of me. I struggle to my feet, desperately searching for my sister amidst the chaos.
The ringing in my ears is deafening, drowning out the screams and cries for help that echo around the gallery. My vision blursas I wipe blood from a cut above my eye. My mind races, trying to make sense of what just happened.
“Nikolai Gennadyevich!” Anton shouts my name, but I can’t see him through the smoke. “Nikolai Gennadyevich!”
“Find my sister!” I yell back. My hand flies to my side, and panic seizes my throat when I do not feel my gun. It takes me a second to remember that I had left it behind because tonight was supposed to be a respectable affair.
Around me, people lie sprawled on the floor, some motionless, while others claw at the debris that pins them down, their faces twisted in agony. Blood splatters are on the once pristine walls, and the canvases are hanging in tatters.
It’s all gone. In seconds, it has been destroyed.
“Help! Please, somebody, help!” Izzie’s voice pierces above the din, her desperate sobs rising above the commotion. I glance over to her, cradling Gaspar in her arms. He’s motionless, staring at a wall that’s no longer there.
One look and I know there’s nothing I or anyone else can do for him.
“Somebody help!” she pleads, her eyes meeting mine with desperate reproach. She won’t leave him, not even to save herself. Her face is turning pale, and there’s a pulsing gash along her arm.
Without hesitation, I strip off my jacket and place it on her cut shoulders. I use my tie to wrap a tourniquet around her bleeding arm. But blood continues to flow and a puddle—bright red from arterial blood—is already forming beneath her body. I motionPavel toward us. He looks down at Gaspar’s corpse and then at Izzie and gives me a quick shake of his head.
She’s not going to make it.
Snarling, I help Izzie up and hand her over to Pavel. “I’m sorry, Izzie.”
Izzie trembles as she fumbles at my arm, her fingers already uncoordinated and cold from blood loss. “Don’t leave me,” she gasps, clawing desperately at life even as it pours out of her. “Please don’t leave me.”
I turn my back on her. I don’t have time for this. I navigate through the carnage and chaos, searching. Black smoke starts to thicken, and I call out again.
“Lara!”
The blaring sirens are a haunting soundtrack as I search for Larissa.
The thought of her lying somewhere among the dead sends a wave of dread through me.
No. No. No! Please, no. Not you too!
I force myself to focus, to push past the familiar pain and shock that threaten to overwhelm me. Panic is our enemy now. If I don’t stay calm, more lives will be lost. I’m sure of it.
“Keep moving!” I shout, urging the remaining guests to head for the exits. “Get to the exit!”
“Kolya!” Larissa’s voice calls out, barely audible over the sirens. I follow the sound of her voice, stumbling through the debris and pushing aside fallen tables and chairs. My heart pounds furiously in my chest as I follow her voice.
I spot her crouched beside an injured woman, tears streaming down her face as Larissa struggles to rip off a piece of her own dress to create a makeshift bandage for a woman’s head. Her once pristine gown is stained with blood and soot. But she’s alive, and that’s all that matters.
“Thank God you’re okay,” I exhale, relief flooding through me as I pull her into my arms. “We need to get out of here, now.”
“What happened?” she stammers, her gaze darting around the destroyed gallery as if trying to make sense of it all. “One second, I’m talking to her and then, and then …” She hiccups as she looks down at the woman, unable to finish her words.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice tight with anger. “But whoever did this will pay. I’ll make sure of it. But right now, we need to get out of here.”
“No, help her.” She shakes her head. “I have to find Rurik. I can’t leave without Rurik!”
I motion another one of my men over to carry the injured woman to safety, then turn to my sister. “Lara, we have to go. This place isn’t safe.”
