Chapter 22 Breaking Free
Chapter twenty-two
Breaking Free
Mariana
I wake to the sound of violence.
Not gunfire—something more primal. Flesh hitting flesh. Bodies crashing into walls. The kind of fighting that happens when men run out of bullets and resort to older methods.
My head is foggy from sedatives, but training kicks in. I roll off the bed, crouching behind it as the door bursts open.
A guard stumbles backward, already falling. Mikhail follows, blood streaming from a fresh cut above his eye, moving like death incarnate.
"Mikhail?"
He spins toward me, and for a moment I think I'm hallucinating. The drugs, the grief—my mind creating what I need to see.
"Mariana." His voice is rough, desperate. "We have to move. Now."
"You're dead. I saw—"
"Blanks. Fake blood. Harrison's game." He pulls me up, checking me for injuries even as shouts echo from the hallway. "Can you run?"
"You're really here?"
"I'm here. But not for long if we don't move."
My body believes what my mind can't process. I'm already moving, muscle memory overriding shock. The monitoring cables rip away as I stand, alarms immediately screaming.
"This way." He leads me out but not toward the main corridor. Instead, we duck into what looks like a supply closet. "They'll expect us to run for the exits."
"Won't we?"
"Eventually. First, we need weapons."
He's already moving medical supplies aside, revealing what looks like an old ventilation grate. "These warehouses all have the same layout. Pavel never changes what works."
"You've been here before?"
"Similar place. Three years ago." He pulls the grate free. "Can you fit?"
The vent is narrow, dark. My shoulder throbs from the previous gunshot wound, and my body is still weak from drugs and stress. But Mikhail is alive. Impossibly, miraculously alive.
"I'll fit."
We crawl through darkness, metal cold under my palms. Behind us, Harrison's voice echoes: "Find them! They can't have gone far!"
"Left here," Mikhail whispers.
The vent opens into another room—this one filled with old office furniture and dust. But also, blessed sight, a weapons cache. Pavel's paranoia means weapons stashed everywhere.
Mikhail arms himself efficiently—Glock, knife, extra magazines. He hands me a compact pistol. "How's your aim?"
"Good enough."
"Your shoulder?"
"Fine."
Then silence. Just for a second. He studies my face in the dim light."I watched you die."
"I'm sorry. I couldn't—there wasn't time to—"
"I know. Apologies later. Escape now."
He almost smiles. "There's my little wolf."
Footsteps in the hallway. Multiple sets, getting closer.
"They're sweeping room by room," I observe.
"Let them. We're not going room by room."
He points up. Ceiling tiles. Removable.
"You've got to be kidding."
"Can you climb?"
My shoulder screams as I pull myself up into the ceiling space, but adrenaline is beautiful chemistry. We crawl through the dark space between floors, past electrical conduits and HVAC equipment.
"Harrison has forty-three women," I whisper as we move. "Leverage. If he doesn't check in—"
"Mila handled it. She hacked his dead man's switch two hours ago."
"How do you know?"
"Faith in my niece." He pauses at a junction. "Also, she put a tracking chip in me apparently."
"She what?"
"Family conversation for later. Down here."
We drop into what looks like a loading dock. For a moment, hope flares—we can see outside, see freedom.
Then lights flood the space.
"Predictable," Harrison says. He's standing with Pavel and at least fifteen men, blocking every exit."
"I designed these modifications myself," Pavel says, his scarred face twisted in satisfaction. "Every hidden path, every escape route. All leading here."
We're trapped. Truly trapped this time.
"Surrender," Harrison offers. "Both of you. End this clean."
"Clean?" I step forward, rage overriding caution. "Do you think we'll take your word for it when that means nothing to you?"
But something's different about Harrison. He keeps checking his phone, glancing at the exit. He's nervous.
"Expecting someone?" I ask.
"Backup should have been here by now." He murmurs to Pavel as he checks his phone again. "Where the hell—"
"Having communication problems?" Mikhail asks slowly.Harrison freezes.
"Did you really think we came here without backup?"
"You're bluffing."
"Check your phone again. Check if any of your messages actually went through."
Harrison pulls out his phone, his face going white. No signal. None of his backup requests sent.
"While you were watching us crawl through vents, our people were surrounding the building."
"You brought us exactly where we wanted," a new voice finishes.
Rodriguez steps into view, but not alone. Williams is with him, along with what looks like half the FBI's tactical response unit.
"Deputy Director Harrison Cole," Williams says formally. "You're under arrest."
"This is entrapment!"
"This is justice," Rodriguez corrects. He looks at me, something like pride in his eyes. "Nice work, Castillo."
"I didn't—"
"Sure you did. The ceiling route? That was textbook Quantico training. Led them right into our net."
I hadn't. It was pure survival instinct. But if Rodriguez wants to give me credit for a plan I didn't make...
"Pavel Volkov," Williams continues. "You're also under arrest."
Pavel tries to run. Of course he does. But this time, instead of the Hudson River, he runs straight into Boris and Alexei's team coming through the opposite entrance.
"Going somewhere?" Alexei asks pleasantly.
"This was planned?" I look at Mikhail.
"Not by me. But apparently, my family doesn't trust me to rescue myself anymore."
"Smart family," Mila says, appearing with her ever-present laptop. "By the way, the forty-three women are all safe. Evacuated an hour ago. Hi, Aunt Mariana!"
"Aunt?" I'm still processing Mikhail being alive. Now Mila's calling me aunt?
"Well, you're married to Uncle Misha, so—"
"Focus," Alexei interrupts.
Harrison has given up. As the FBI cuffs him, he looks oddly relieved. "Twenty-three years," he mutters. "I suppose it had to end eventually."
"Your sister," I tell Mikhail quietly. "Anya. Is she—?"
"Safe. In Chicago with medical care." He pulls me against him as chaos continues around us. "It's really over."
"Is it?"
"Harrison's arrested. Pavel's arrested. We have immunity. The women are safe." He touches my stomach gently. "Our babies are safe."
"Babies?" I smile at the certainty with which he says it.
Williams approaches. "Mr. and Mrs. Kozlov, we'll need statements. But given everything, they can wait until you've received medical attention."
"Hospital," Mikhail agrees immediately. "She needs—"
"I need you to stop making decisions for me," I interrupt, but there's no heat in it. "We need to go to the hospital. Together."
As EMTs lead us toward an ambulance, I see them loading Harrison into a federal transport. He catches my eye and mouths something I can't quite make out.
"What did he say?" Mikhail asks.
"I don't know. And I don't care."
But that's a lie. Because it looked like he said, "Check the video again."
The video. Of Mikhail's death. Why would he—
"Stop," Mikhail says, reading my mind. "No more mysteries. No more conspiracies. Just us and our future."
He's right. Whatever Harrison meant, it doesn't matter now.
As the ambulance doors close, I realize something:
We actually won.
Against all odds, against our own enemies and ourselves, we won.
"I love you," I tell him.
"I love you too."