36. Chapter 36
The sun dips below the horizon, shadows pooling around the dilapidated warehouse like blood.
I crouch behind a rusted shipping container, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Not from fear—I don’t feel fear in situations like this anymore.
No, this is anticipation.
The hunt.
Through a gap in the metal, I glimpse Gerald standing over Alina and Yara, a smug grin twisting his lips as he toys with them with a gun in his hand.
Bile rises in my throat.
The moment Alina lured him out to the meeting spot, of course Gerald flew into a jealous rage.
”Where have you been?”, ”How dare you stay away from me?”, ”You stupid bitch! I”ll kill you and your daughter if you ever leave my sight again” were all heard over the radio.
It was almost unbearable, listening to his harsh words and the fear in their voices.
The situation continued to escalate, Gerald”s fury only intensifying, when he forced them to move to another location at gunpoint to, in his words, ”teach them a lesson”.
I hate that we had to put them in harm”s way once again, into the clutches of an unhinged man with nearly unlimited resources. A man who truly believes they both belong to him. Because in his world of trafficking and misogyny, women are merely possessions that can be traded and discarded on a whim. A profitable enterprise with an unlimited supply and an even more unlimited demand.
I remind myself that while they are currently very much in danger, it”s not for long. And it”s an unavoidable means to an end.
I check my weapon one last time and burst through the warehouse door.
“Let them go, Gerald,” I growl. “This ends now.”
Gerald’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing.
But he doesn’t move, and he doesn’t release his captives. The bastard is actually enjoying this.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the gallant Agent Morello.”
His smirk widens, showing his too-white teeth.
“Thank you for leaving your business card at my house. I”ve done a lot of research on you. Here to play hero? Trying to make up for all your past fuck-ups? There”s quite an extensive list.”
I keep my gun trained on the center of Gerald’s forehead, ignoring the trembling in my arm.
If I need to shoot, I can’t miss.
Won’t miss.
“There’s no playing here. It’s over.”
A mocking laugh. “You think so?”
Gerald grabs Yara’s arm, yanking her in front of him as a shield.
”Is that what you said when you let little Debbie Frost die because your aim missed and struck her instead of her kidnapper?”
He glances down at Yara, as if unperturbed by the firearm I have trained on him.
”It would be a shame to repeat that mistake again, in front of Alina, wouldn”t it?”
Panic surges through me, a million thoughts crashing through my mind.
He”s right. I can’t shoot, not with Yara so close, but if I don’t—
I”m paralyzed by indecision as every piece of firearms and combat training I”ve ever received flies through my head. Advance, retreat, de-escalate, eliminate the threat, protect human life, get approval, follow your instincts. All of it makes sense, and none of it makes sense.
A sharp cry cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
I snap my gaze to Alina just in time to see her slam her elbow into Gerald’s gut.
Gerald’s breath whooshes out in a pained gasp and his grip slackens.
Yara wrenches free, scrambling away to Alina’s side.
In that fraction of a second, I squeeze the trigger.
The shot echoes through the warehouse, impossibly loud.
Gerald crumples.
I find myself moving before I even realize it, crossing the space between them in three long strides.
I kick the gun from Gerald’s limp hand and drop to my knees, feeling for a pulse.
Nothing.
Gerald is gone.
And the two women he’s been terrorizing—the two women I had vowed to protect, no matter the cost—are finally, finally safe.
From him, at least.
I look up to meet Alina’s gaze, and see my own bone-deep relief and something else reflected in her eyes. Something like gratitude, and maybe, just maybe, a spark of something more.
A smile tugs at my lips as the wail of sirens in the distance grew louder.
We”ve made it. All of us. Together.
The smile slips from my lips as a fiery bolt of pain lances through my side.
I glance down to see a growing crimson stain seeping across my shirt.
In the chaos, I hadn”t even felt the impact of the bullet. Now it”s making its presence known, and the icy fingers of shock are starting to creep in.
”You”re hit!” Alina gasps.
She”s at my side in an instant, her hands fluttering over the wound.
”Oh God, there”s so much blood.”
The panic in her voice snaps me out of my daze.
”It”s okay,” I say, fighting to keep my own voice steady. ”The vest caught it.”
I fumble for the Velcro straps of my Kevlar, peeling it back to reveal a deep wound along my ribcage, skirting the side of the vest.
”Not life-threatening, but it”s going to need stitches. Probably a lot of them.”
The words are an attempt to soothe myself as much as them, because there”s more blood pumping out of me than any stitches could fix.
Judging from the expressions on both of their faces, they”re not buying my words any more than I am.
Alina makes a small, distressed sound, and Yara whimpers beside her. Their terror is almost enough to make me wish the bullet had pierced something vital.
Almost.
I can”t stand to be adding to their pain.
I reach out to squeeze Alina”s hand, dredging up a reassuring smile even as my body grows cold and I find myself shaking uncontrollably.
”Like I said, I”m not going anywhere.”
The wail of sirens grows louder, and then the warehouse is filled with chaos as the SWAT team swarms in.
Medics descend upon us, ushering me onto a gurney.
Through it all, Alina refuses to leave my side.
Her hand is a steady, comforting weight in mine until they load me into the ambulance.
As the doors slam shut, cutting off my view of her, a strange sensation blooms in my chest.
Not pain, for once, but something warm and almost pleasant.
Hope.
Moments later, the air vibrates with the sound of approaching helicopters and vehicles—the full FBI SWAT team descends upon the scene with overwhelming force.
They”re safe for now at least.
And then everything fades to black.
Alina
Gradually, the chaos fades into relief, as the realization sinks in that the terror is finally over. We”re finally safe. From Gerald, at least.
I hold Yara tight, tears of relief and residual fear mingling as I whisper, ”We”re safe, solnyshko. We”re safe.”
Yara nods against my shoulder, still trembling.
There”s a spark of hope in my eyes as I gaze at Gerald”s prone form being loaded into a body bag and wheeled away.
The monster who haunted our American nightmares is gone. We”re battered and scarred, but we survived.
But then my heart leaps to my throat at the sight of Morello, a choked cry escaping me. Not him. Please, not him.
I watch helplessly as he”s loaded onto a gurney and then into the nearby ambulance, blood seeping from the bullet wound in his abdomen.
After all he”s done to save us, I can”t lose him now. We can”t lose him now.
I rush to his side as the SWAT medics descend upon us, their shouts fading into the background. His eyes flutter open, meeting mine for a brief moment.
The warmth I”ve come to cherish behind those serious eyes makes my breath catch.
Then his eyes close again and the medics take over, working swiftly to stabilize him.
I try to get closer, but they usher me away and ask me to give them space while they work.
”You have to save him!” I urge, grabbing one of the medics by the arm. I can”t stem the panic in my voice. ”Please, he can”t die!”
The medic gives me a grim look, then focuses on the task at hand. ”Ma”am, please. We can”t have you hovering right here.”
I frown and step back, helpless, as they prepare to move him.
Yara comes up beside me, slipping her hand into mine and squeezing tight.
I cling to her, and it”s my turn now to draw strength from her presence.
”Can we ride with him?” I ask, addressing the lead medic. ”Please, we have to be there when he wakes up.”
After a brief hesitation, he nods. We climb in after the stretcher, the doors slamming behind us
The ambulance lurches into motion, sirens blaring, as we speed through the gathering dusk.
I grasp Morello”s hand, cold and limp in mine, blinking back tears.
”You have to make it,” I whisper, as much to myself as to him. ”You have to.”
The uncertainty of his fate hangs over us, a dark cloud marring the relief of our escape.
All I can do is pray, as the ambulance races on through the deepening night.