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The windows shattered, glass shards flying through the air like a deadly snowstorm. The noise was deafening, triggering alarms in the echo of the bomb’s explosion. The air is ripe with the acrid scent of gunpowder.
“Getoff.” I try to push but it’s about as effective as trying to lift a small elephant. I look up to see Viktor’s scarred face. He’sstill conscious, but there’s a large gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes.
He grunts and rolls over but grabs a weapon. I’ve never seen him grab a weapon before. If the fact that abombdetonated isn’t enough of a clue that something’s terribly wrong, him grabbing a weapon absolutely is.
He grimaces with the effort of moving off of me. I don’t even remember how he got here. There must’ve been something that triggered an alarm and he only had seconds to shield me with his body before the detonation took full effect.
“Where is everyone? Is everyone okay?”
“Stay down,” he growls, pushing himself up. He’s wobbly on his feet. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
“Of course I do.”
He shoves one into my hand. “That bomb was a distraction and a way in. You’re in grave danger. Don’t pull any of your shit, Aria, you stay fuckingthere.”
I glare at him but hold the weapon anyway and give it a quick glance. You pull the trigger, right? My mind churns with questions and fears.
If I never hear the words “you’re in grave danger” again for the rest of my life, I’ll be a happy camper.
“Polina?” he calls out.
“I’m fine, Viktor. It’s Mom I’m worried about.” I look up to see Polina kneeling over her mother, a look of concern on her face. They’re handling this with such calm, it’s a little unnerving.
Ekaterina’s unconscious, her forehead streaked with blood.
Oh no.
I push up and feel a painful stab in my abdomen. Stricken, I put my hand to my belly. Polina looks about as terrified as I feel. “You fell,” she says, even as she holds her mother’s wrist between her fingers. “Did you hit your head? Are you in pain?”
Gunshots ring out. Viktor’s on his feet. I look up to see the entire wall between us and the hallway’s been demolished. Even though there’s still a ceiling over us, there are gaping holes in the roof overhead.
I can’t even figure out who’s where because of the debris and smoke in the air.
Smoke?
“I have a pulse,” Polina says, blowing out a breath. “Thank God.”
Gunshots ring out again, and again. My hand trembles on my weapon. Will I be able to use it if I need to?
“They’re here for you,” Viktor says in a harsh whisper. “We need to hide you.”
He looks around the room, his keen eyes taking everything in. With one quick movement, he yanks down the desk, shoves everything onto the floor, and pulls it so the top forms a barrier between me and the doorway. It’s fruitless, though, because there’s no safety at my back. Still, it’s something. “Getdown,” he orders, grabbing me and pulling me down.
Another gunshot rings out. Another.
“Viktor!” Polina screams, as an armed man in all black, wearing a face covering, walks into the room holding a huge gun. Viktor’s faster than he is, though, and he pulls his trigger, just as asecond assailant comes in through the broken wall. I scream and pull the trigger of my own gun, unprepared for the way it bucks against my shoulder. I miss by a mile.
“You said you could fucking shoot.”
“God, I lied, alright?”
“Don’t shoot again, you’re likely to kill someone and not the ones we want.”
He isn’t wrong.
But we’re outnumbered and we can’t hold them off for long.
I hear the sound of screeching tires. The boom of a car door. Multiple weapons — machine guns? — being fired.
