Chapter 38 Niko
NIKO
My lungs burn. Each breath feels like swallowing glass, and I push myself up onto my hands and knees.
Blood drips from my busted lip onto the floor. Pure rage is keeping me conscious.
This isn't how it ends. No fucking way.
One guard stands directly in front of me, a gun raised. The other is at my side, ready to drag my body out once it's done.
My vision blurs, then sharpens. The room spins from the beating they gave me. Sore ribs, jaw throbbing, but nothing matters except getting to Calli. If Stavros touches her.
The one with the gun cocks his head.
"Nothing personal, Mr. Petrou," he says. "Just following orders."
I wipe the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and catch something reflecting the light. Shards of glass from the drink my father hurled at the wall.
I cough, let my body sag like I'm losing strength, and close my fingers around the broken pieces. I grip them too tightly, feeling them slice into my palm. The pain is sharp, immediate, but I hide it, staying down, breathing hard. Blood pools in my palm.
I look up at him, at the barrel pointing at me, and shake my head. I force a harsh laugh. "It's always personal."
The guard's mouth twitches. "Well, better you than—"
I explode upward to my knees with everything I have left, my arm whipping forward like a pitcher throwing a fastball. The glass shards fly from my bloodied fist directly into his face. The pieces scatter, some missing, but enough find their target.
He screams, stumbling backward as glass tears into his skin and eyes. His finger squeezes the trigger out of reflex.
BANG.
The gun fires, but the shot goes wide. Pain tears through my knee as the bullet grazes it and embeds itself in the floor.
I feel the burn, but my body is already in motion, fueled by pure adrenaline and the image of Stavros putting his hands on Calli.
I'm on him before he can recover. I slam into his chest, reaching for his weapon.
The gun goes off again.
BANG.
This time I manage to shove his arm away, and the bullet punches into the wall, sending plaster down onto the floor.
I grab him around the waist and spin behind him. My wounded hand leaves bloody prints on his jacket as I rip the gun from him and raise it toward the second guard, whose eyes are wide with panic as he brings his gun up.
He fires first.
BANG.
The bullet meant for me punches into the chest of the man I'm holding. I feel the impact through his body as he jerks from the shot.
I don't hesitate. I fire back immediately.
BANG.
The bullet catches him right under his left eye, snapping his head back. He doesn't make a sound as he drops, his weapon clattering to the floor. His pupils dilate as the life leaves them, fixed on where we go next.
The man in my arms is still breathing, still struggling. I press the hot barrel of the gun to his temple. Blood continues to pour down his face, mixing with the crimson spreading across his white shirt from the bullet wound.
He tries to speak, lips moving weakly, but I don't have time for last words or pleas. Every second I waste here is another second Stavros has with Calli.
I pull the trigger.
BANG.
His body goes limp and falls from my arms, hitting the ground with a thud. Blood begins pooling around both bodies.
My right palm continues bleeding from the glass cuts, and my knee throbs where the bullet grazed it. I feel blood soaking my pant leg, but there's no time to check my wounds. I need to move.
I run to the door and turn the handle.
"Shit!"
It's locked. Of fucking course.
I slam my shoulder against it. Nothing.
I pound on the solid wood. "Open the door!"
Nothing. Just silence from the other side.
I turn around, looking at the men on the floor. One of them must have the key. I kneel beside the guard who tried to kill me first and search his pockets. Nothing in the front. I roll his limp body over to check his back pocket.
Just when I'm about to, the door suddenly swings open.
I snatch the gun from the floor and whirl around, aiming at the doorway, finger already tightening on the trigger, expecting more of Stavros's men to pour through.
But standing in the doorway is a tall man wearing the uniform of the catering staff.
He freezes, hands slightly raised, eyes darting from me to the bodies on the floor.
"Jesus Christ," the man says, rushing over to help me up. "Are you okay?"
I keep the gun trained on him, not trusting anyone in this goddamn place. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Easy, man. I'm Declan," he replies, offering his hand. "Keira's brother."
My mind struggles to process this as I stand up. Keira. Calli's best friend. But that doesn't explain why he's here.
"Why the hell are you dressed as the staff?"
"Long fucking story," Declan says, moving past me to the other guard's body. He bends down and picks up the dead man's weapon, checking the magazine. "But we don't have time. Stavros took Calli."
I know it, but hearing someone else confirm it solidifies my worst fear. The reason I planned to kill my father before he could hurt her. "Where?"
"I don't know. Keira's looking." Declan straightens, his eyes running over me. "Can you move all right?"
I nod.
"Then let's go."
We start running down the hallway, weapons raised. Every step sends fresh agony through my knee, but nothing matters except getting to Calli.
"How do you know Calli's in trouble?" I ask as we move.
"Saw him take her," Declan says, checking around a corner before motioning me forward. "Plan's all fucked. I told her."
"Plan?" The question dies on my lips as we burst through the kitchen doors. The staff freezes, hands hovering over cutting boards and pots. Their eyes are wide, some crouched behind counters, others pressed against walls.
But what strikes me most is their reaction to Declan. They're not just afraid. They're confused. Shocked. Like they recognize him but can't understand why he's holding a gun.
"Move!" Declan shouts, and the staff scatters. We keep running.
"This way," Declan says to me.
We burst through the kitchen's back exit into the night air. The gardens that seemed so beautiful earlier now feel like a maze designed to confuse and trap. Landscape lighting casts harsh shadows, turning every hedge and statue into a potential hiding place.
A guard rounds the corner, drawing his weapon. Declan doesn't hesitate.
He fires twice.
BANG.
BANG.
The guard's chest jerks with the impact, and he falls backward over a bush.
"Where did they take her?" I ask, scanning the grounds.
"I don't know, but it’s this way.”
Shouts erupt from our left. More of Stavros's men have spotted us, pointing and drawing weapons. Two break away from the group, rushing toward us.
"Go!" Declan shoves me forward. "I'll cover you!"
I don't waste time arguing. I sprint toward the next mansion, ignoring the fire in my knee. Behind me, gunshots crack through the night. I turn, aiming at one guard closing in, and fire.
BANG.
The bullet catches him in the leg, dropping him instantly.
I fire once more.
BANG.
He goes quiet.
A guard rounds the corner of the building, automatic weapon raised. I duck as pieces of the wall explode around me from his bullets.
I squeeze the trigger.
BANG.
The bullet catches him in the face. He goes down hard, his gun skittering across the stone pathway.
Declan catches up and we get moving.
We sprint across the garden, keeping low behind the hedges. Behind us, I can hear chaos starting to happen.
"Declan!" A woman's voice calls out through the foyer. Keira stands at the bottom of a grand staircase, her red hair wild around her face. "Upstairs. She's up there. He took her, Niko!"
We make it to the door of the next mansion and rush inside.
My heart hammers against my ribs. "The study," I say, already moving. "Stay here," I add, turning back to Declan. "Guard the door and her." I nod to Keira.
He doesn't respond, just turns his aim at the doorway.
I take the stairs two at a time, each step sending fresh pain through my leg. But I push. She's close. So close.
As I reach the top of the stairs, a sound stops me cold.
It's the worst sound I could ever hear in my life.
Calli screaming.
The sound rips through me like a blade, more painful than any physical wound I've received tonight.
My vision narrows to a tunnel, focused only on the hallway ahead. I charge forward, no longer feeling pain, no longer feeling anything except a primal need to reach her.