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He nods.
I shake my head more.
Trust me, he mouths before pulling the pin and tossing it into the oncoming group.
Bright light and a deafening boom quickly follows.
I stand corrected: not a grenade; a fuckingflashbang.
Tolya pulls and throws another, and just like that, he leads the charge through the now-disoriented Yakuza scrambling around the pavement like blind mice. We make quick work to put down everyone stupid enough to stick around.
“We’re clear,” Pavel confirms after a quick surrounding sweep.
Tolya steps back with a clap of his hand to my shoulder. I have to admit, it feels good to have him by my side again. He’s one step ahead of me tonight—which is a good thing, because my head is not on right.
In any other situation, I would have grabbed a handful of flashbangs and used those without hesitation because it makes obvioussense. But this isn’t just any other situation. This is Clara, my woman—my lover and girlfriend and the mother of the sweet little girl I now call my own—hidden away to be sold once again by the same sick psychopath who tried taking her from me before.
She’s got to be terrified out of her mind, and for all I know, trying to fend off the unwanted advances of Raizo and his sick fucks?—
Hell no.
Hell. Fucking. No.
He won’t get the chance to touch her ever again.
I quicken my pace through the maze of shipping containers. I don’t care if I leave my own men behind. The thought of anyone laying their hands on my Clara pumps adrenaline through my veins and I’m ready to rip apart each and every one of them, finger by finger.
Tolya and Pavel keep up with me while the others fall behind to take care of stragglers. One Yakuza guard shouts his surprisewhen we round a tight corridor between containers, and he scrambles to dislodge himself from an entanglement of one of the slaves so he can grab for his gun.
He’s too slow. I’m too pissed.
The slave screams as blood splatters all over her back. She cringes and braces herself to be next, her sobs shaking her whole body as she lifts her hands in surrender.
I immediately holster my gun, but before I can crouch down to reassure her she’s not in any danger—not anymore—Tolya swoops in and pulls her into his arms.
“Hey,” he murmurs to her, “it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She hiccups and shivers like a leaf, and I see so much of Clara in her. The shuddering, the panic, the sheer terror that the next man will do worse than the one before.
But I also see the flicker of a dying fire in her eyes.
Dying, but not gone.
“What’s your name?” Tolya asks as he gently wipes the tears from her eyes.
We don’t have time for this. But I know as well as he does that we can’t risk taking a basket case with us, either. She needs to calm down or she’ll give away our position to the next wave of guards.
“What’s your name?”
“E-Eva,” she whimpers.
“Eva. Beautiful name.” Tolya points at himself, then at me. “I’m Tolya, and this trigger-happy psycho is my little brother,Demyen. We’re looking for a woman who isn’t with the others. Clara. Have you seen her?”
Eva slowly shakes her head.
I sigh. “Did you see a cop come by here?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head again. But then she stops, tenses, and glances over Tolya’s shoulder. “I… I saw them take a couple… when he…” She looks down at the dead Yakuza.
