Chapter 36 #2
When I reach the top of the stairs, I realize it’s the same hallway that leads to my room. I hear people running down the other halls, but no one seems to be heading this way. I ease away from the stairs along the wall, every warning in my head blaring.
There’s no way that the soldiers don’t know these stairs are here and wouldn’t use them. So either someone is blocking the hall, or they’re too scared to come down here. I rip out the coms in my ear, tossing it aside, needing no distractions.
I press my back against the wall, watching and waiting. Listening.
Patience, Aurora. Patience.
I don’t know how long I wait, hearing the screams, shouts, and barking of dogs, even as more explosions shake and rattle the windows.
Most of the fighting still seems to be happening at the front of the house.
Either they’ve taken out most of the fighters in the back, or they’re waiting for the all clear to bring the others in.
Just where are they going to bring them in, though? And how?
I try to recall if I noticed anything in any of the rooms in this part of the house.
I only really paid attention to my room and the ones on either side, but nothing sticks out.
I swear if there’s some kind of secret passage into this place like Nico’s mother used, I’m going to beat Ilya over the head when I see him next.
Especially for not locking it and not letting me know about it.
Finally, finally, I hear the hush of voices not far from me. I keep my muscles loose, and my mind clear as I focus on the sounds. No mistakes.
I nearly laugh when I finally see a door open.
Mine.
They’re coming out of my fucking bedroom. I narrow my eyes as I watch the door creak open. Thankfully, this part of the hallway is cast in shadows, and I can blend in with them in my corner to watch.
“Quickly,” a voice hisses, and I fight back the urge to curse. Simeon steps out of my bedroom, looking around fervently, like he’s sure I’m going to spring out and attack him at any second. At least he has one thing right.
And just how did he get away from Oleg to let them into my room? They would have had to scale the back of the house to get in, and surely someone would have caught that on camera? That’s a problem to address later.
Next comes Timur, stalking out like he owns the place.
His gaze also sweeps around, skimming right past me.
He’s put on some weight, his hair has gone a dark silver, and more gold and silver rings cover his fingers.
But there is no missing the cruel look in his dark eyes, or the way he walks with overwhelming arrogance.
I still hate him as much as I did years ago when he didn’t bother to grieve his youngest son. My fingers itch to lift my gun and kill him now. I can’t give away my position yet.
No one else moves out the room, staying behind the door, and Simeon looks at his father, with an impatient look. Timur ignores him. “Where is she?” he demands.
“She’s with those assholes out front fighting. I saw her heading that way with that giant Italian asshole and her dog,” Simeon replies. He fidgets nervously. “But I don’t want to be here when she comes back. She’s a fucking maniac. Him too.”
“She is well trained, but she is not out front,” a deep voice rumbles from my room.
I haven’t heard that voice in so long, but it still strikes a sick kind of fear in my heart, even knowing I’m not a child anymore.
I watch him emerge from the room, but still careful not to allow all of himself to be exposed.
The Bratva Butcher aka Pasha Antonov still looks as cold and deadly, even with the gray hair and wrinkles that line his face.
There’s no missing the size of him, the controlled movements of his body, or the way his green eyes scan every inch of the space.
Eyes far too like my own for me to feel even remotely comfortable.
I want to lift my gun now, kill him, but I have to wait. I have to be patient. If I kill him now, I’ll be dead in seconds by whoever else is behind him in my room. I keep my breathing low, even, and steady. I don’t react when his trained eyes scan the hall, taking in every shadow.
He knows I’m here, and I don’t allow myself to feel any surprise when they lock on me.
His lips curl up into a cold, ruthless smile. The same one he used to give me before he beat me unconscious for the smallest infraction, or if he had some anger he wanted to let loose before he continued on with his day.
“Come out, daughter. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you.”
A part of me wants to ignore him, remain where I am, but that would show weakness. That would give him power, which I vowed never to let him have over me ever again.
Instead, I let my lips curl into a cold smile of my own as I step out of the shadows, gun in hand at my side. “Hello, Father.” I hold his stare as he takes me in. He’ll find something lacking in me, and when his eyes meet mine again, I see his lips pinch in displeasure.
Some things never change.