27. Sofia
SOFIA
Center Parkway is less of a park and more of one of those areas filled with shops and businesses.
It sits near the middle of downtown, just off the main road.
It’s a stretch of area where tourists and the rich walk up and down manufactured concrete roads.
When I was a teenager, I would come through here and shop with the few friends I had.
They would be looking for rich husbands.
I’d just be looking for some time away from my lessons.
It’s a busy day today. The tall buildings surrounding the main drag are office buildings for the most part, but I know some of these offices are empty or under construction. Titus let me come here immediately to find a good place where I can see.
As I walk into the building, the sniper rifle stashed away in a gun case shaped like a briefcase, I pass by people in business suits, a guard sleeping blissfully at his post in front, and to the elevators.
There are twenty floors in this building. Ideally, I’m going to want to be at least halfway up. All I need is one empty office.
I wish I’d had more time to scout this place out. I’m worried that there won’t be anyplace for me to set up and I’ll be forced to go to the roof. The higher I go, the more I’m going to have to worry about things like wind and all that.
The elevator doors open and I step out into a hallway. It’s so quiet that it almost seems like I’m standing in a vacuum. There’s not even any sounds of office noises. I make a left and walk slowly past the closed doors, listening for signs of life. Miraculously, I don’t hear any.
At the end of this hallway, there’s a room with a big red sign that reads Leasing with a phone number beneath it. Yes!
I set the case down and kneel before the doorknob to pick it. The moment I try the door, it opens easily. Huh. Didn’t even have to pull out the bobby pin in my pocket.
I walk in, and the smells of paint and plaster fill my senses. The space is just walls and carpet, the shape of a lobby, and beyond the door, a room with four walls and a large picture window with no openings.
Meaning I’m going to have to make one. I step up to the window and look out, searching for the meeting place below, the row of benches next to a spiral-shaped street lamp.
It’s early enough to where there aren’t a lot of people around, which is good.
I’m a decent shot. Better than most. But I’d really hate to miss.
The plan, as it is, is simple. The moment I’ve got a clear shot at either Cyrus or Cyril, I take them out. Titus will take down the other. And as soon as it’s done, we’ll only have a scant few minutes to make our escape and meet up at the rendezvous nearby.
My blood is pumped with adrenaline. My father would never dream of putting me in this position. Hell, I’m pretty sure if there were any other choice, Titus wouldn’t either. But here we are. And once it’s done and it’s all over…
I don’t want to think about what comes next after this. In fact, I think maybe it’s better if I don’t think about it right now.
I find a spot by the window with the clearest view and settle in, opening the briefcase. The gun is in pieces, but that’s all right. I’ve got a little time to put it together.
Once I’ve got a whole rifle in my hands, I break out a corner of the window with the butt. Long, claw-like cracks spread upward, clearing half the window frame. What a crappy construction for a high-rise window pane…
I stick the gun’s barrel out through the hole I made and look through the scope. The benches appear at the perfect angle. As soon as they arrive, I’ll have them in my sights.
It’s been about thirty minutes. I’ve been sitting and waiting in virtual silence, running my escape plan over and over in my mind. There’s a back staircase down the opposite hallway. I’m thirteen stories up, but it might be a better bet than using the elevator.
Then again, after the first shot, I’ll need to get out of this building fast. Faster than it’ll take the police to even arrive. The elevator will be the way to go in that case.
I’m not dressed too inconspicuously. A black T-shirt and slacks with a pair of low heels. My hair is up in a bun, so I would say that I look like any number of business women who come through here. I will likely blend in with the crowd afterward.
As for the gun, I may have to leave it here. It comes apart in four pieces, which I was able to get assembled in a matter of minutes, but those minutes could mean the difference between getting away and getting caught.
Titus will have to forgive me for losing his gun if it comes down to it.
I’ve been watching the movements of people down below and I wonder how strategic the whole time of the meeting was. There are tons of innocents around and if there’s one thing I know about this life, it’s that we don’t bring innocents in the mix if it can be avoided.
Listen to me. We. As if I’m Arkhangelskaya now. I guess, in a way, I sort of am now that my family is gone.
Focus. I grit my teeth as I push those thoughts away. The job comes first.
A high wind picks up and blows in through the hole in the glass, chilling my face for a moment. If that wind keeps up, I’ll have to make adjustments. Hopefully, it won’t be too bad.
As I watch, I see a figure walking into view.
It’s Titus. His silvery hair is tamed into a ponytail and it shines under the sunlight as he walks toward the rendezvous point.
He looks good. He’s wearing a dark gray suit that fits him well, like all his other suits.
The jacket is open slightly to reveal a white shirt form fitting enough to see his defined pecs, even from this vantage point.
He looks prepared, but more importantly, he isn’t standing out. His suit isn’t so tight that he won’t be able to run quickly when he has to grab his son. I watch him through my scope as he finds a place on the bench and sits, looking at his watch.
He’s about two minutes early. I see him glance upward, scanning the building, looking for any sign of me. I want to signal him, give him some reassurance. I don’t know who else is watching, though. I dare not risk it.
I spot another figure emerging from the thinned crowd, walking toward him from the east. Tall with long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a dark suit and sunglasses.
It’s Cyrus. I’ve maybe met him once or twice, so his face isn’t that familiar to me, but I know the walk.
All the Bratva have it and this man has it too.
He swaggers, walking as if he’s hearing his own rhythm to a theme song while glancing around, surveying his surroundings at all times.
But wait. He’s alone. I stop looking through the scope and look at the entire surroundings. There’s no child with him, nor is there anyone else. I look through my scope again, hoping maybe I just missed the little boy somehow. I’m not mistaken. That is Cyrus and he’s alone.
Shit. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Where is Luka? More importantly, where is his—
“So, it’s you, then.”
I freeze. The sound of Cyril’s voice behind me runs like ice up my spine. How the hell—
He doesn’t give me time to question it. He grabs me by my hair, yanking me away from the window.
Instinctively, I drop the gun as I’m dragged away, then tossed as Cyril turns on his heel and hurls me to the other side of the room.
I roll a couple of times, the wall stopping my momentum as I run into it, slamming my shoulder.
“And we meet again,” he says. “I can’t believe Titus chose you to cover him over any of his brothers.
I figured he’d leave the little woman back home.
” He stands there, his face still showing signs of the last time we met—faded bruises along his jawline and darkened circles under his eyes.
His nose has a deep cut along the bridge and is crooked, twisted to one side.
Guess he didn’t bother getting it fixed this time.
“Looks like you were wrong,” I say as I slowly get to my feet. “You look like shit. That nose is starting to look like hamburger.”
His mouth twitches. “I don’t have time to play, little Penza. We’ve got places to be.”
He takes a step toward me and I adjust my stance. I’m not about to make any plan he’s got easy. If he wants me, he’s going to have to work for it.
He sees my feet move and he stops. “You really want to fight. Again?”
“Seems like a viable plan. You’re 0 for three so far.” He grimaces at me angrily. “What’s the matter? Scared? Can’t say as I blame you. I’ve already beaten your ass three times. I’d be a little worried, too, if I were you.”
He huffs, his jaw clenching as he starts walking toward me. “I’m going to rip your head off and skull fuck you, you little cu—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish. I throw him a roundhouse, swinging my back leg in an arc.
He sees it coming, however, and throws an arm up to block it, using the half second to grab and hold my foot under his arm.
He swings me by my leg, tossing me down to the floor.
He twists my ankle, sending shards of pain through my leg.
I cry out in pain and he glowers at me, tossing my leg away.
It slams into my other leg, sending a new wave of pain through my hips.
“You know, Cyrus said just to grab you and go,” he says as he takes off his suit jacket. “But I have been looking forward to another chance to ugly up that pretty face of yours.”
He advances on me, his heel coming up. I roll, avoiding the first stomp, then the second one. The third time he lifts his leg, I roll into him, colliding with the leg he’s standing on. I grab it and bite hard into him through his pants.
He yells, stumbling back and falling to the floor.
As he goes down, I get up and immediately spot my gun, discarded on the other side of the room.
I dart toward it and he grabs me by the ankle, sending me to the floor.
I roll and kick at him twice, missing once and hitting him square in the face a second time.
He grabs my leg and drags me across the floor.
We tussle for a second with him managing to grab my arms and pin me to the floor. I slide under him and bring my legs up, kicking him in his shoulders and in the back of his head.
“Goddammit!” he curses, trying to avoid my kicks. Finally, he reaches into his belt and pulls out a gun, pointing it at my head. “Enough already!”
I’m staring down the barrel of his gun and a million thoughts go through my mind. Do I try and disarm him? For all the martial arts that I know, I don’t think I can overpower him and if we end up fighting over this fucking gun, one of us will end up getting shot. I’d rather it not be me.
“There we go,” he says. A tendril of blood drips down his thrice broken nose. He sniffs and wipes at it with his free hand. “You are going to pay for that, you little bitch.”
With that he pistol whips me across my jaw… and everything goes black.