Chapter 29 Nadya
NADYA
The explosion tears through the warehouse, a brutal percussion shaking dust from the ceiling. For a moment, the world is nothing but noise, vibration, and darkness. My ears ring so hard that for a split second, there’s nothing else—just the disorienting hum drowning out Konstantin’s voice.
“Nadya! Move!” he shouts again, pulling me behind a stack of crates just as the windows explode inward, glass shards slicing through the air like glittering knives.
I blink, breath hitching in my chest, heart slamming against my ribs.
Konstantin’s fingers dig into my shoulder, grounding me as he peers over the edge of our makeshift barricade.
Smoke curls thick and black, blinding us to whoever is storming through the breach.
But I already know who’s behind it. We both do.
Dmitry.
Konstantin reaches behind him and pulls a gun from his waistband, handing it to me without a word. I grip it, feeling the familiar coldness against my palm as muscle memory takes over. I learned how to hold a gun before I could properly tie my shoes—today, I find myself grateful.
“We need to get Levin out of here,” Konstantin growls, voice low and taut with urgency. He reaches into his pocket, clicks the button on his security beacon, sending an alert to Lev. “Backup’s coming, but it won’t be here fast enough.”
“I’ll get him,” I say firmly, already pivoting toward the stairs.
“Nadya—”
“I can handle it,” I say, gripping his arm briefly, meeting his eyes. “Trust me.”
He hesitates only a heartbeat before nodding once. “Stay sharp.”
I sprint toward the metal staircase leading to the upper room, ducking low to avoid being seen through the smoke-filled air. Another blast rattles the warehouse—smaller this time, but still powerful enough to make the stairwell shiver under my feet.
At the top, I shove the door open. Levin cowers by his bed, eyes wild with terror, suitcase clutched to his chest as if it can shield him.
“Get up!” I snap, crossing the room in two quick strides and hauling him upright by his sleeve. “We’re compromised. We need to leave now.”
He stumbles behind me, gasping incoherently, fear radiating from every jerky movement he makes.
I lead him back toward the stairs, gun raised, eyes scanning the floor below.
Konstantin’s nowhere visible, but through the shifting haze of smoke, I see movement—figures darting between cover, advancing cautiously toward our position.
I flatten myself and Levin against the wall just as the deafening staccato of gunfire rings out, bullets pinging off metal with chilling clarity.
“Keep your head down,” I hiss at Levin. His breath is ragged, shaking beside me.
Below, Konstantin returns fire, his movements precise, lethal, bullets finding their marks through smoke and chaos. He fights like a man born for war, but even he can’t hold them off forever.
I tug Levin toward the narrow hallway that leads to the rear exit, heart thundering.
We slip down the stairs, emerging behind a row of stacked crates.
Gunshots and shouts echo in the wide space around us, but the shadowed aisle offers temporary cover.
My instincts are sharper now, every sense dialed to maximum clarity.
One of Dmitry’s men steps into view ahead, his back partially turned.
Before he sees us, I move on instinct—stepping forward swiftly, pressing the gun barrel against his neck.
He freezes, gasping, but I give him no chance to act.
A quick movement of my elbow, and he drops heavily at my feet, unconscious.
Levin stares, stunned. “You…you knocked him out.”
“I didn’t have time for a conversation,” I snap.
We move faster, slipping toward the exit door, Levin stumbling and panting behind me. Konstantin appears suddenly, sprinting toward us through the smoke, his face smeared with soot and blood, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“They’ve sealed off the east exit,” he rasps. “We have to reroute. The basement tunnel.”
“The tunnel’s compromised?” I ask.
“No choice. It’s our only way out.”
I nod, swallowing hard. He’s right. Levin’s panicked breathing echoes loudly, too loud.
Konstantin takes the lead, and we follow swiftly, darting through scattered debris and acrid smoke to reach a rusted metal door set into the floor.
Konstantin heaves it open, revealing a narrow ladder descending into darkness.
“Go,” he orders Levin. “Now.”
Levin scrambles down, breathing hard, trembling. As I follow, Konstantin pauses at the edge, firing behind us into the shadows, keeping our pursuers at bay. When he finally slips down after me, he bolts the hatch shut, plunging us into near darkness.
The tunnel smells of earth and old metal. We hurry forward, shoulders brushing against damp concrete walls. Our footsteps splash through shallow puddles of stagnant water, echoes ricocheting like a taunt. Each breath feels too loud, each heartbeat pounding violently.
We reach the ladder that leads up to the alleyway. Konstantin climbs first, shoving aside the heavy grate above, moonlight spilling down on us.
When we emerge, we’re at the far end of the warehouse lot, hidden between two sagging buildings. In the distance, sirens wail, but they feel too far, too late.
Konstantin scans the perimeter, his stance alert, gun raised. “Lev should be here soon,” he says tightly, glancing at me. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, catching my breath. Levin leans against the wall, pale, eyes unfocused. “Are you injured?”
He shakes his head mutely, clutching his chest. Konstantin grabs him roughly by the shoulder. “Keep breathing. It’s almost over.”
But it’s not.
The gunshots suddenly pick up again—closer now, bullets chewing at the concrete nearby. Konstantin pushes Levin behind a rusting dumpster, shielding us both with his body. His jaw is clenched, fury radiating off him. “Stay here,” he commands us.
He pivots away, charging into the chaos, firing decisively. I watch his silhouette blend into the smoke and shadows, my heart lurching painfully.
I grip Levin’s arm. “Stay here and don’t move,” I say harshly, adrenaline flooding my veins as I move after Konstantin, weapon raised and ready.
I find Konstantin pinned behind a burned-out car, gun empty, men approaching on all sides. My pulse pounds in my throat as I slip behind one attacker, taking him down hard with an elbow to the temple. His knees buckle, and I kick the gun from his limp hand, snatching it up.
Konstantin meets my eyes, surprise quickly turning to grim admiration. “Good timing.”
“I’m not just decoration,” I say, heart racing.
He reloads swiftly, jaw clenched in determination. Together we move forward, fighting as one—fluid, deadly, each action mirrored, unspoken. Bullets fly, dirt kicks up beneath our feet, my lungs burn, but my movements come smoothly, the old training from Uncle Arman guiding every strike.
In moments, the lot is quiet again, our attackers scattered or fallen. Konstantin stands beside me, breathing heavily, eyes bright with fury and pride. He checks me swiftly, hands brushing my shoulders, making sure I’m unharmed.
“We’re clear,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse.
I nod shakily, blood roaring in my ears. “We need to get Levin.”
But before we can move more than a few steps, gunfire slices the air around us, bullets ringing thunderously off the pavement, forcing us into a crouch behind a crumbling brick wall.
My pulse quickens, adrenaline burning through my veins as I grip the gun tighter, eyes scanning rapidly for our attackers.
“Stay low,” Konstantin growls, already returning fire, his movements precise and lethal. I hear a strangled cry somewhere in the smoke-filled darkness, the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground hard.
I steady my breathing and look toward our path to Levin, but it’s quickly blocked by two of Dmitry’s men—bulky shapes emerging from the haze, faces twisted in determination.
I don’t hesitate. Years of my uncle’s brutal training surge forward like muscle memory, erasing doubt and fear.
Before the first attacker can fully lift his weapon, I lunge forward, aiming low, sweeping my leg into his knee with swift, brutal efficiency.
He buckles with a grunt, dropping the gun as he falls.
I catch it midair, spin, and drive the grip into his temple, knocking him unconscious.
The second man turns, startled, bringing his gun up in reaction—but I’m already moving, too close for him to shoot effectively.
My elbow crashes hard into his throat, cutting off his breath as my knee connects with his gut.
He doubles over, choking, and I finish with a swift kick to the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the concrete.
I glance up to find Konstantin watching me, eyes wide with surprise and fierce approval.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” he murmurs roughly, a faint smirk on his lips.
“You’d be wise to remember that,” I reply, a small grin tugging briefly at the corner of my mouth before another burst of gunfire forces us back into cover.
We pivot swiftly, moving as one, shoulder to shoulder, covering each other’s blind spots instinctively. The sound of approaching footsteps echoes ominously around us—too many and too close.
“They’re closing in,” Konstantin growls under his breath, reloading quickly. “We’re surrounded.”
There are four that I can see, maybe even more.
Two of them gun for us. One of them heads for Konstantin.
The second closes in, gun raised, but I surge forward and sweep his legs from beneath him with a swift, low kick.
He hits the concrete hard, head snapping back with a sickening crack.
Breath tight, adrenaline surging, I spin to face the third man.