Chapter 32
Nadia
The van lurched over the flooded highway.
Dark inside. Rain hammered the metal roof in a steady, muffled roar. The air reeked of motor oil, gasoline, and moldy blankets.
I lay on the freezing floor. Hands still zip-tied behind my back.
That bowl of double-dosed sleeping pills was kicking in hard. My brain felt like a waterlogged sponge, consciousness being dragged toward a black abyss by an unstoppable force. My eyelids weighed a ton.
Can't sleep. If I sleep, my baby and I end up on a dark web operating table.
I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood. Not enough. I twisted my bound wrists, grinding the rough nylon cord deep into the raw, mangled flesh the bulletproof glass had left behind.
The pain sliced through my nerves straight into my skull. My body convulsed, cold sweat broke out everywhere, but that lethal drowsiness finally tore open.
I gasped for air, using the pain to stay razor-sharp awake. In the darkness, my fingertips found something sharp on the van floor.
A screw.
Lucky break, Nadia. Good start.
I took a deep breath and shifted my body, pressing my wrists against it.
I clenched my jaw and dragged the taut nylon cord across the rusty threads.
It hurt. The screw wasn't just cutting rope—it was cutting flesh. The wounds on my wrists tore open again. Warm blood ran down my hands, soaking the cord.
I didn't stop.
The bumping van masked the small sounds I made. I worked mechanically, relentlessly. Only one thought in my head: survive. For my baby, survive.
I don't know how long it took. Ten minutes? Half an hour?
One nylon fiber broke. Then a second. A third.
Finally, the rope loosened.
I yanked my hands free. My wrists were covered in blood, flesh torn open. But I felt no pain. I immediately clawed at the medical tape on my inner thigh.
The tape ripped away. The cold derringer fell into my palm. I flicked off the safety. Two bullets.
I gripped the gun tight and took a deep breath.
Two chances.
The van started slowing down. Tires crunched over gravel and puddles, then stopped.
I heard waves. And wind howling through an empty warehouse.
The docks.
Footsteps outside. Then Richard's smarmy voice.
"Boss, brought her. She's in the van."
A rough male voice answered. "One point two million. Not a penny less. The merchandise good?"
"Absolutely." Eleanor's voice, dripping with greed. "Young, pretty. Just drugged. Still out cold."
"Open it up."
I held my breath. Body pressed against the shadows in the corner of the van. Both hands raised, barrel aimed at the gap between the doors.
The external latch released.
The rear doors flew open from outside.
Blinding floodlights poured into the van. Rain drifted in.
A bald man with a face full of scars and a neck covered in tattoos leaned in. He had a flashlight, sweeping it through the van.
"Where is she..." he muttered.
The beam hit me.
He saw me. Saw the black hole of my gun barrel.
His pupils contracted instantly. His hand moved reflexively toward the gun at his waist.
Too late.
My hands shook, but I didn't hesitate. I looked into his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The deafening gunshot exploded in the cramped van. Gunpowder filled the air.
At point-blank range, the bullet punched through the bald man's eye socket. Blood and brain matter sprayed in the spotlight's glow.
He didn't even scream. His massive body fell straight backward, slamming into the mud.
"Ahhh—!!"
Eleanor's piercing shriek came from outside.
Richard scrambled backward on his ass, crawling under the van.
"Shit! She's got a gun! Igor's dead!"
Angry shouts from the other buyers. Guns being cocked everywhere.
Well done, Nadia.
My stomach churned. I wanted to vomit.
But I gritted my teeth, stepped over Igor's body, and jumped out of the van.
Cold rain slammed into my face.
A massive abandoned dock. Rusted shipping containers everywhere. Sea wind mixed with brine.
A man in black to my left raised his pistol, aiming at me.
I spun around, raised my hand.
The second and final bullet.
It hit his chest. He screamed, clutching his wound as he went down.
The gun was empty.
"Get her! Alive! Break her legs!" someone roared in the distance.
I hurled the empty gun at the nearest person and ran.
Barefoot. The rough asphalt shredded my feet. The rain was freezing, soaking through my thin clothes.
I ran toward the maze of containers.
Footsteps pounded behind me. Bullets sparked off the container walls near me, throwing off bright flashes.
"Stop! Bitch!"
I didn't look back. I covered my belly and ran for my life. Every breath felt like swallowing knives. My lungs burned.
Left turn. Right turn.
The passages between containers were narrow. Deep puddles. I slipped once, my knee crashing hard against the ground.
I got up and kept running.
I couldn't let them catch me. In their hands, my baby and I would suffer fates worse than death.
The footsteps closed in. From all directions.
They'd spread out. They were surrounding me.
And there was a roar of engines.
Damn it, reinforcements?
I pushed harder, breaking out of the container area.
Dead end.
An open concrete platform. At the edge, black churning seawater.
Waves crashed against the concrete pillars with a deafening roar. This was the dock's edge. Deep water.
I stopped. Gasping.
Turned around.
Five men with guns emerged from the container shadows. They formed a semicircle, trapping me at the edge.
"Keep running." The man who'd dodged my bullet sneered, his gun pointed at my knees. "You killed our guys. We'll settle that score nice and slow once you're on the operating table."
I took a step back.
My heel hung over empty air. Below, freezing seawater.
"Don't jump." The man read my intention, his face changing. "Take her alive! Her organs and face are worth a fortune!"
They rushed forward.
I looked at them. At those twisted faces.
I looked down, both hands covering my flat belly.
If they caught me, I'd lose the baby and become their plaything.
Jump, and I might drown. But at least it would be my choice. I wouldn't hand my life to these scum.
"Save me," I whispered in my mind.
Instantly, I realized with bitter sadness that the face in my head still belonged to that man with the deep brown eyes.
But we'd never meet again.
I turned around. No hesitation.
I jumped.
Weightlessness.
Cold sea wind screamed past my ears.
As my body plunged toward the water, I thought I saw a black Maybach crashing through the rain like a rabid beast... but it didn't matter anymore.
I hit the water.
The icy sea swallowed me whole.
Cold. Brutal cold like a thousand needles piercing every pore.
Seawater flooded my nose and mouth. Salty. Suffocating.
My clothes absorbed water, becoming heavy. Dragging me down.
I thrashed in the water. Opened my eyes—pitch black. Couldn't see anything.
I covered my belly. My body curled up involuntarily.
The oxygen in my lungs was running out. My chest felt like it would explode. Consciousness began to blur.
Am I going to die?
My baby. I'm sorry.
Darkness gradually consumed my brain. My struggling slowed. My body sank.
Roman
I dove into the bone-chilling water without hesitation.
Black as pitch underwater. The freezing water cut like blades. I kept my eyes open, searching frantically in the darkness. Currents surged, and finally I caught that faint shadow sinking deeper.
No.
I won't let her die here.
I swam toward her desperately. Strong resistance in the water. Seawater flooded my nose and throat—salty, suffocating. But I clenched my teeth, arms slicing through the water, every stroke using every ounce of strength.
Finally, I grabbed her arm. So cold. Her body like a block of ice. I immediately locked my arm around her waist, pulled her tight against me, kicked hard, and hauled us both upward.
We broke the surface.
Wind and rain hammered my face. I gasped for air, but the person in my arms didn't move. She hung limp against me like a lifeless doll.
"Nadia!"
I shouted her name, my voice ragged and broken in the storm.
Damn it! She'd lost consciousness.
I held her up and swam toward the concrete steps at the dock's edge. Danny and several of my men were already on shore. They hauled us out.
I laid her flat on the rough concrete. Rain pounded her paper-white face. Her lips were purple, eyes closed, chest completely still.
"No... no..."
I knelt beside her, hands pressing on her chest. Once, twice, hard and rhythmic.
"Wake up! Nadia!" My voice shook with unprecedented panic. "Don't you dare die! I won't let you die!"
No response.
Rain hammered down on us, mixing with whatever was running down my face—rain or something else, I didn't know.
I pinched her nose shut, lowered my head, pressed my lips to her icy mouth, and forced breath into her.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Please... please wake up..." My voice cracked, nearly choking. "Nadia, please..."
More compressions. More rescue breaths.
I don't know how many times I repeated it. Time seemed frozen. Everything around me disappeared. Just me and her.
Her chest suddenly convulsed violently. Her body jerked to the side, and she vomited out mouthfuls of salty seawater and bile.
"Nadia... thank God."
My whole body went weak. My hands were shaking.
She was alive.
Nadia's eyes slowly opened a crack, her gaze blurry and confused. When her vision finally managed to focus on my face, I saw her cracked lips move weakly.
"Roman..."
Just that one barely audible word, and then the faint light in her eyes went out completely.
She closed her eyes, her head tilting limply to the side, falling back into a bottomless unconsciousness.
"Nadia?"
I tapped her cheek. No response. Her body cold as ice.
No more delays.
I stripped off my soaked suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around her. Then carefully but firmly, I lifted her into my arms.
"Danny! Tell Dr. Yuri to have all emergency equipment ready at the manor medical center! Now!"
I carried her and strode toward the Maybach.
Just as I reached the car door—
"Mr. Sokolov! Help! Mr. Sokolov, please!"
Two trembling, pathetic figures suddenly crawled out from a pile of bodies, throwing themselves in front of my car.
Richard and Eleanor.
These animals had hidden under the van when the dark web buyers got massacred. Now seeing me carrying Nadia, Richard kowtowed frantically in the mud like a stray dog.
"Mr. Sokolov, we're Nadia's parents! Please show mercy!" Richard sobbed, trying to crawl toward me. "We were forced! That woman Vera forced us! She threatened us with Leon's life; we had no choice but to bring Nadia here!"
"Exactly!" Eleanor sobbed, her makeup a complete mess. She even reached out with her grimy hands, trying to grab me by the leg. "She's our daughter! How could you think we'd just sell her off? Mr. Sokolov, please, I'm begging you. For Nadia's sake, have a heart and let us go! We're family!"
Family? Using Nadia as a shield?
I stopped.
I looked down at Nadia in my arms, still trembling from cold and fear even in unconsciousness, at her wrists mangled and bloody from the rough rope.
These were her parents. They pushed her into hell, sold her to perverts, and now were begging for their lives using that pitiful blood tie.
A murderous rage exploded in my chest. I wanted to blow their brains out right now.
But I didn't.
Letting them die quickly would be too easy. These were Nadia's parents. This was the deepest, most festering wound in her heart. If I killed them myself, when Nadia woke up she'd only find it all more absurd and hopeless.
This decision, this blade—it should be hers to wield.
Without loosening my grip on Nadia, I lifted my tactical boot and kicked Richard square in the chest with brutal force.
With a sickening sound of breaking ribs, Richard let out a squeal, flying backward and slamming into a container, spewing blood.
"Ahh—" Eleanor screamed and scrambled backward.
I drew my gun expressionlessly.
Two deafening shots.
The bullets tore through Richard and Eleanor's right kneecaps with precision. The large-caliber rounds shattered their kneecaps completely, blood and flesh flying.
"Ahhhhh my leg!!!"
Shrill screams pierced the rainy dock. They collapsed in the mud, clutching their pulverized, gushing knees, writhing like maggots.
I stared coldly at these two pieces of filth.
"Danny."
"Yes, Pakhan."
"Take these animals, and that waste Leon too. Lock them all in the dog cages in the manor basement." I holstered my gun, my voice pure ice and killing intent. "Stop their bleeding. Don't let them die."
I glanced down at the girl in my arms.
"Their lives—when Nadia wakes up, she'll take them herself."
"Yes!" Danny waved his hand. Several burly men immediately stepped forward, dragging the screaming pair toward an SUV like dead dogs.
I ignored the wailing behind me, carried Nadia into the Maybach's back seat, and slammed the door.
"Drive. Fastest route to the medical center!"
The engine roared to life and the car shot into the rain like a black arrow.
Inside, I wrapped Nadia's freezing body tightly in a dry blanket from the car. I held her against me, trying to warm her with my body heat.
"It's okay... Kitten, it's okay..."
I pressed my face to her icy forehead, my voice hoarse and shaking.
Whatever punishment she'd give me when she woke up, whatever price she'd demand—I would absolutely never let her go again.