Chapter 40 Dimitri
DIMITRI
The words coming out of Alina's mouth don't make sense. They can't make sense. My wife—my wife—is offering herself to Mikhail Volkov like she's some kind of bargaining chip, and every cell in my body is screaming at me to stop this insanity.
"No." The word tears from my throat, raw and absolute. "The deal is off. We'll find another way."
But Mikhail isn't looking at me anymore. His cold blue eyes are fixed on Alina with an intensity that makes my trigger finger itch. He's studying her like she's a puzzle he's trying to solve, his silver hair catching the torchlight as he tilts his head.
"Fascinating," he murmurs, taking a step closer to us.
"Tell me, Alina, why would you give up everything for a man you barely know?
A man who kidnapped you from your own wedding?
Who forced you into marriage?" His smile is sharp as a blade.
"Surely, you can't have developed feelings for your captor in such a short time. "
I feel Alina's body tense beside me, but when she speaks, her voice is steady. Clear. "Because he's my husband. Because he saved my sister. Because he's a better man than you'll ever be."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Pride and terror war in my chest. She's defending me, standing up to a man who's orchestrated massacres and frame jobs, and all I want to do is throw her over my shoulder and run.
Mikhail's expression darkens, the calculated amusement draining from his face. "I see." His voice drops to something dangerous. "You've actually fallen for him. How… inconvenient."
He raises his hand, and I see the signal coming before his fingers finish the gesture.
"Seize her."
Everything happens at once.
Mikhail's men surge forward, at least six of them converging on Alina. My Glock is in my hand before conscious thought, muscle memory taking over. I fire twice—center mass, the way I've done a thousand times before. Two of Mikhail's soldiers drop before they're within five feet of my wife.
The courtyard explodes into chaos.
Gunfire erupts from the monastery walls where my men have been positioned, waiting for exactly this moment.
Muzzle flashes light up the ancient stone like lightning.
The sharp crack of rifles echoes off the crumbling walls, mixing with shouts in Russian and the wet thud of bodies hitting cobblestones.
I grab Alina and pull her against me, shielding her body with mine as I fire again. Another of Mikhail's men goes down, his weapon clattering across the stones. Bullets whine past my head, so close I feel the displacement of air.
"Move!" I shout, dragging her toward the old stone fountain in the center of the courtyard. It's the only cover within reach, and even as we run, I see chunks of ancient stone exploding where bullets strike.
We hit the ground hard behind the fountain, and I position myself between Alina and the incoming fire. My back presses against cold stone as bullets chip away at our cover, sending fragments raining down on us.
"Dimitri!" Alexei's voice crackles through my earpiece. "We have the high ground. Give us thirty seconds to suppress their fire."
"Copy," I respond, checking my magazine. Half empty. I have two more on my belt, but if this turns into a prolonged firefight, we're in trouble.
I risk a glance at Alina. Her face is pale in the torchlight, her red hair wild around her shoulders, but her green eyes are focused. Alert. She's not panicking, not freezing. She's assessing, thinking, surviving.
My wife is magnificent.
"You okay?" I ask, running my free hand over her arms, her sides, checking for injuries I might have missed in the chaos.
"I'm fine." She grabs my wrist, stopping my frantic inspection. "Dimitri, I'm fine."
More gunfire erupts, but it's different now. Controlled. Precise. My men are picking off Mikhail's soldiers with the efficiency of the professionals they are. I hear bodies falling, hear the screams of the wounded.
Through a gap in the fountain's stonework, I see Mikhail retreating toward the monastery entrance, his remaining men providing covering fire. He's moving fast, already disappearing into the shadows of the ancient building.
"Damn it." I key my radio. "Alexei, Mikhail's heading into the monastery. Cut off the exits."
"On it, Pakhan."
The gunfire is tapering off now. Most of Mikhail's men are down or surrendering. But the man himself is escaping, and if he gets away, this nightmare continues. He'll regroup, plan another attack, and next time, he might succeed in taking everything I love.
I turn to Alina, ready to tell her to stay here where it's safe, where my men can protect her while I go after Mikhail.
But when I look into her eyes, I see the same determination that made her pull a gun on me in that guest bedroom.
The same strength that made her kill her own father to protect her sister.
"Don't," she says before I can speak. "Don't tell me to stay here while you go in there alone."
"Alina, it's too dangerous. Mikhail could have the whole building rigged. He's had five years to plan this."
"Exactly." She grips my arm, her fingers digging into my tactical vest. "Which is why you need someone watching your back. Someone he won't expect." Her voice drops, becomes almost pleading. "I'm coming with you, Dimitri. We finish this together."
Every protective instinct I have is screaming at me to refuse. To lock her in the SUV and storm the monastery with my men. But I look at her face, at the fierce determination there, and I remember what she said to Mikhail.
Because he's a better man than you'll ever be.
A better man wouldn't treat his wife like a fragile thing to be protected and hidden away. A better man would trust her strength, her courage, her right to stand beside him.
"You never intended to marry him," I say, the realization hitting me. "The surrender, the offer. It was all a distraction."
A ghost of a smile crosses her lips. "Shock factor. I needed to buy time for your men to get into position. And I needed Mikhail focused on me instead of watching for an ambush."
Pride swells in my chest, so intense it's almost painful. "You're brilliant. And insane. But mostly brilliant."
"I learned from the best." She touches my face, her palm warm against my beard. "Now let's go finish this before he gets away."
I want to kiss her, want to pull her against me and taste her lips, remind myself that she's alive, that we're both alive. But there's no time. Mikhail is escaping, and every second we waste gives him more opportunity to set traps or call for reinforcements.
I check my weapon one more time, then nod. "Stay close. If I tell you to run, you run. No arguments."
"No arguments," she agrees, but I see the lie in her eyes. If it comes down to it, she'll do whatever she thinks will keep me alive, just like I'll do whatever it takes to protect her.
We're both idiots in love, and we're probably going to get each other killed.
But at least we'll die together.
I signal to Alexei, and he acknowledges with two clicks on the radio.
My men are moving into position, surrounding the monastery, cutting off escape routes.
But I'm not waiting for them to clear the building.
Mikhail knows these old structures, knows how to disappear in the shadows. If we don't move now, we'll lose him.
I rise from behind the fountain, pulling Alina up with me. The courtyard is littered with bodies, both Mikhail's men and a few of mine. I see Borge directing the cleanup, his massive frame unmistakable even in the flickering torchlight.
We move toward the monastery entrance, my weapon raised, Alina pressed close behind me. The ancient wooden doors hang open, darkness yawning beyond them. Every instinct I've honed over forty-two years of survival is screaming that this is a trap.
But sometimes you have to walk into the trap to spring it.
We're three steps from the entrance when I hear it. A sound like distant thunder, but wrong. Too rhythmic. Too deliberate.
"Get back!" I shout, grabbing Alina and throwing us both to the side.
The explosion is massive.
The monastery's entrance erupts in a ball of fire and debris.
The shockwave hits us like a physical blow, lifting us off our feet and slamming us into the cobblestones.
My ears ring, my vision blurs, and for a moment I can't breathe, can't think, can only feel Alina's body beneath mine where I've covered her.
More explosions follow, one after another, tearing through the ancient structure. Mikhail has rigged the entire building with charges, and he's bringing it all down.
Stone and timber rain from the sky. A chunk of masonry the size of a car crashes down ten feet from where we're lying. The monastery's bell tower, centuries old, tilts and then collapses in a cloud of dust and destruction.
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Alina screaming my name.