Chapter 39
CASSIAN
The door explodes inward and I’m through it before the smoke clears.
Gunfire erupts immediately. Muzzle flashes in the dark. Bullets tearing through drywall and ricocheting off metal beams. I drop low, weapon up, and put three rounds into the first guard before he can adjust his aim. He goes down hard.
Marcus is on my left, Declan on my right. We move as one unit, clearing the entry corridor while Julian’s team hits the front with enough firepower to wake the dead.
“Two more, ten o’clock!” Marcus shouts.
I pivot and fire. The guards are using a forklift for cover. My shots punch through metal and one of them stumbles back. Marcus finishes him with a head shot.
The second guard breaks and runs deeper into the warehouse.
“Leave him,” I say. “We go down.”
The schematics showed stairs to the basement in the southeast corner. That’s where she is. That’s where we’re going.
We push forward. The warehouse floor is chaos. Julian’s team has engaged the main Petrov force at the front entrance. Heavy automatic fire shakes the building. Voices shout in Russian. Grenades detonate in sharp cracks.
A guard appears from behind a storage rack, too close for me to bring my weapon around. I drop the gun and go for my knife instead, burying it in his throat before he can pull the trigger. Blood sprays hot across my face and hands.
He drops and I’m moving again. Pick up my weapon. Keep going.
The basement stairs are exactly where the schematics said they’d be. Metal door, heavy lock. Declan shoots it off and Marcus kicks the door open.
More gunfire from below. Bullets chewing up the doorframe. I lean around and return fire blind. Someone cries out, and the shooting stops.
We descend fast. Twelve steps down into darkness that smells like mold and old blood. At the bottom, a hallway. Concrete floor. Exposed pipes running along the ceiling. Three doors. The one at the end is the southeast corner.
Two guards block our path. They’re ready for us, weapons raised, using the narrow corridor to their advantage.
Marcus tosses a flashbang. The explosion is deafening in the confined space. The guards are blind and disoriented. We move in before they recover. I put two rounds in the first guard’s chest. Declan takes the second with a shot to the head.
We’re at the door now.
It’s locked from the outside with a heavy padlock. Marcus pulls bolt cutters from his vest and cuts through it. The lock hits the floor with a metallic clang.
I push the door open. The room is exactly what I expected and worse than I imagined. Concrete walls. Single hanging bulb. Blood on the floor. And Aurelia tied to a metal chair in the center, head down, not moving.
“Clear the room,” I tell Marcus.
He and Declan sweep the corners while I move to her.
There’s so much blood. On her clothes, her face, the floor beneath the chair. Her hands are bound behind her back with rope that’s cut deep into her wrists. Her ankles are tied to the chair legs.
“Aurelia.”
She doesn’t respond.
I holster my weapon and pull out my knife. I cut the ropes binding her wrists first. The moment the restraints fall away, her arms drop limply to her sides. No resistance. No reaction.
I move to her ankles, cut those ropes too. Then I’m in front of her, tilting her head up gently. Her face is destroyed. Both eyes swollen nearly shut. Lips split and bleeding. A gash above her eyebrow that’s still seeping. Bruises covering every visible inch of skin.
“Aurelia, it’s me. We’re getting you out.”
Her eyes flutter. She’s trying to focus but can’t seem to manage it. One eye opens slightly. The other is too swollen.
“Cassian?” Her voice is barely a whisper. Raw like she’s been screaming.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I slide one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lift her as carefully as I can. She makes a sound of pain but doesn’t scream. Can’t, probably. Too weak.
She’s lighter than she should be. Too light. Like she’s lost weight in the hours since they took her.
“Are the boys safe?”
The question comes out slurred. Barely coherent. But it’s the first thing she asks. Not about herself. Not about the pain. About our sons.
“They’re safe. They’re at the estate with Nadia. No one’s going near them.”
She tries to say more but her eyes close again. Her head lolls against my chest.
“Stay with me,” I say into her hair. “Don’t you dare die on me now.”
No response. She’s unconscious.
“We need to move,” Marcus says from the doorway. “More hostiles incoming.”
I carry her toward the exit, each step careful, trying not to jostle her too much. Trying not to think about how badly she’s hurt or whether we got here in time.
We make it to the stairs and start climbing. Gunfire above us intensifies. Julian’s team is still engaged at the front, buying us time to extract.
Halfway up, Aurelia’s body goes completely limp in my arms. Dead weight.
“Aurelia!”
I stop. Check for a pulse. Find it. Weak but there.
She’s alive. Barely. But alive.
“Keep moving,” Declan says behind me. “We’re not out yet.”
We reach the ground floor and it’s chaos. The firefight has spread through the entire warehouse. Julian’s team has pushed deeper inside, forcing the Petrovs to fall back. Bodies on the floor. Smoke thick in the air. The sharp smell of cordite and blood.
Julian sees me carrying Aurelia and his face goes white. “Is she—”
“Alive. Barely. We need the medic now.”
He’s already on his radio. “Get the vehicle to the south exit. Medical emergency.”
We fight our way toward the south side of the building. Two more Petrov guards try to stop us. Marcus and Declan put them down without breaking stride.
The exit door is ahead. Through it, I can see the SUV waiting. Engine running. Back door open. We’re almost out.
A guard appears from behind a support column, weapon raised. Aimed at me. At Aurelia in my arms.
I can’t move fast enough. Can’t drop her and draw my weapon. Can’t do anything except watch him pull the trigger.
Julian appears from my left. Three shots in rapid succession. The guard drops.
“Go!” Julian shouts. “Get her out of here!”
I run the last twenty feet to the vehicle and slide into the back seat with Aurelia still in my arms. The medic is already there, bag open, hands moving.
“Lay her down,” he says. “I need to assess injuries.”
I lower her onto the seat as gently as I can. Her head rolls to the side. There’s blood on her face, her clothes, everywhere.
The medic starts checking vitals. Pulse, breathing, pupil response. His face is grim but focused. “Multiple contusions. Possible broken ribs. Severe dehydration. She needs a hospital.”
“Secure facility,” I say. “Julian’s people have one ready.”
Declan slides into the driver’s seat. Marcus takes passenger. The vehicle is moving before Julian even gets in. He appears at the last second, diving through the still-open door as we accelerate away from the warehouse.
The medic is working on Aurelia. Starting an IV. Wrapping her ribs. Cleaning blood from her face so he can see the extent of the damage.
I’m holding her hand. The only part of her I can touch without causing more pain.
Julian’s staring at his sister. At the bruises. The blood. The way she’s not moving. “Did they—” he starts.
“Tortured her for information. She didn’t break. Didn’t tell them anything.”
“How long?”
“Hours. Since they took her.”
His hands clench into fists. “The Petrovs—”
“Will be dealt with. After she’s safe.”
Aurelia’s eyes flutter open again. Just for a second. She looks at me, tries to say my name but can’t manage it.
“I’m here,” I tell her. “You’re safe now. The boys are safe. Everyone’s safe.”
Her hand squeezes mine weakly. Then her eyes close again and she’s unconscious.
The medic checks her pulse. “She’s stable. But we need to get her to the facility fast.”
“How fast are we going?” I ask Declan.
“As fast as I can without killing us.”
The drive takes twelve minutes that feel like hours. Every second she’s not moving. Every second I’m waiting to see if she’ll wake up again or if the torture was too much and we got there too late.
The secure medical facility is in Westchester. Private. Discreet. Heavily guarded. Julian’s people run it for situations exactly like this. We pull up to the emergency entrance and doctors are already waiting. They have a gurney. Equipment. Everything ready.
I carry Aurelia out of the vehicle and lay her on the gurney myself. Can’t let go. Can’t walk away even though I know they need to take her.
One of the doctors puts a hand on my arm. “We’ve got her. Let us work.”
Julian pulls me back. “Let them do their job.”
They wheel her inside through doors that close behind them, and I’m left standing in the parking lot with blood all over my clothes and my hands and nothing to do except wait.
Julian’s beside me. Both of us are staring at those closed doors.
“She asked about the boys,” I say. “First thing. Before asking about herself. Just wanted to know if they were safe.”
“That’s Aurelia. Always puts them first.”
“She wouldn’t tell the Petrovs my name. They tortured her for hours, and she refused to give them what they wanted.”
“Because she loves you.”
I look at him. “What?”
“She loves you. Anyone can see it. She just hasn’t said it yet.” He turns toward the building. “Come on. There’s a waiting room inside. Could be hours before we know anything.”
We head inside, and I realize he’s right. She does love me. Loved me enough to endure torture rather than give them my name. Loved me enough to protect our family even when it cost her everything.
And I almost lost her.
Almost lost the woman I love because I killed Dmitri Petrov six years ago and didn’t think about the consequences.
But we got her back.
She’s alive.
And that’s all that matters right now.