Chapter Thirty-One #2
I leap over a pallet, finding many of them piled to the side, some of the stacks reaching the roof.
A rusting conveyor belt is situated a short distance away to my left.
Behind that, there are more pallet racks, except these come out into the room, dividing the warehouse up.
I hold my breath, my gun at the ready as I start weaving between the different aisles.
I listen in, concentrating on any sounds, but silence is the only thing I hear apart from the distant rattle of gunshots.
My stomach turns.
What if she’s not here?
What if this is just a waste of precious time?
I force myself to calm down. If Aslanov’s men are here guarding the place, then she has to be here. There’s no doubt about it.
I chance a call, hoping I won’t expose myself to Aslanov or his thugs. “Lauren?” I hiss, quietly pacing through more aisles. I look left and right, down each one, but all I see is emptiness and empty racking.
I briefly shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose to give myself a moment. I feel something prick at the corner of my eye, a sudden emotion I am struggling to recognize. Is it a tear trying to break free?
K chertu eto.
Fuck that.
The only time I will be crying is when I have located her, when she is safe. When she is birthing our child into the world. Not before.
I was afraid to say out loud how I felt about her, how much she means to me.
When you speak things into existence, the world tends to throw them back in your face.
Aside from the fact that I was, for so long, unwilling to admit how much Lauren meant to me, I was also scared to let the world hear my truth.
There are billions of ears on this planet, so my words were bound to be picked up by one of my enemies.
I have said nothing, and still, that fucker Aslanov has found a way to crack me. He might have even caught word of Lauren’s pregnancy, but how did he know that I was invested in it? What Lauren and I have could just be a one-time thing for all he cares.
But he knows.
That bastard always knows.
“Lauren?” I call into the darkness.
Nothing.
The stacks go on for miles. I continue jogging down them, my head getting dizzy from how much it’s spinning left and right to check for any activity happening between the shelves.
It’s not good.
Everything is empty.
I pick up the pace, falling into a run to get out of the maze.
The sounds of my own footsteps beating against the concrete fill the atmosphere, echoing off the walls.
I keep sprinting, adrenaline surging into my legs, making me faster.
I cover good ground, nearing the end of the stacks when a bullet ricochets right in front of me on the metal stack I’m just about to pass.
Yobany urod!
I don’t falter and keep moving, but glance over my shoulder just in time to see somebody following me. It’s one of Aslanov’s men. No, two. They chase after me, firing another bullet that I dodge by the skin of my teeth, taking a last-minute diversion.
Bastards.
Sneaking down one of the aisles, I catch my breath for a moment, waiting for the chasers to run straight past, but the fuckers turn the corner too.
“Offence is the best defence,” my old man used to say.
Time to change my strategy.
I turn around, exhale a breath as I aim at one of the fuckers, and squeeze the trigger.
My bullet goes straight through the first guy’s chest, sending his lifeless body back.
He collapses against a rack, metal clanging somewhere above.
The second one gets one right above his left eye.
His brain matter splatters all over a pile of cardboard, spoiling it for any future use.
Tak tebe i nado, pridurok.
I don’t stay long enough to see his body fall. I turn back around to continue on my original path, moving deeper and deeper into the building.
I reach the end soon enough.
And it’s a fucking dead end.
Pizdets!
I punch the concrete wall, cursing. Fear etches at me. Where the fuck can she be? I don’t have time to stumble around in an empty warehouse when my woman and my child are in trouble.
That is when something bright catches my attention.
I turn my head, realizing that I must have reached the other end of the facility.
Wait…no. Not the other end. Shipping and loading.
I move closer to see more loading docks, all equally spaced apart.
Most have the shutters down, but it would appear that the mechanics have failed for some—they’re half closed.
I move closer, squinting from the last rays of sunlight outside.
It has turned an angry red, the semi-circle quickly dipping beneath the horizon as the evening transitions to night.
I peer out of the door, surveying the concrete surroundings.
There are cracks and gaps where pieces of grass and weeds have broken through.
Parked trucks litter the place, making the area look more like a scrapyard.
There are abandoned shipping containers, all rusted; old tires everywhere.
The scream that rips through the air almost makes me jump.
“Lauren,” I say her name under my breath. Adrenaline floods my entire system in an instant.
I’m coming, lapochka!
Ducking underneath the half-closed shutter, I sprint out of the warehouse and let my legs carry me through the scrapyard. It’s not the safest place to run, especially with all of the abandoned machinery everywhere, but I’m beyond caring.
“Lauren!” I yell, my feet thumping against the cracked concrete ground.
“Niko?!”
Bozhe moy!
She’s here!
I pause in my tracks to locate the right container. There’s no way Aslanov’s keeping her in there. The metal structure echoes more sounds. Something crashes. There’s another whimper from Lauren.
I lock onto my target and dart towards the orange shipping container about a stone’s throw from where I currently am.
On approach, I pull out my gun and make sure there are enough bullets loaded.
I have a feeling I will need as many as I can get.
I wince, hoping that Timur will manage to find me—I’m probably going to need all the help I can get.
I reach the container, circling around the circumference to find the entrance.
It’s large, much bigger than it looked when I was back in the warehouse.
Reaching the back, I notice that the cargo door is all shut up.
Rage swimming through me, I lunge forward and attack the door, using brute strength to try and tear it open.
She’s in here, breathing heavily.
Another whimper leaves her lips.
I lose it when I hear her yell, “Stop!” unsure if that was meant for me or her captor.
I point the muzzle of my gun at the lock and waste a bullet trying to shoot it open.
Of course, it doesn’t work.
But then, there’s a clunky metal sound.
Instinctively, I stand aside as the door opens from the top, crashing down to the ground as loudly as thunder. Light filters into the dark shipping container, settling on a face.
Her face.
She squints, her eyes softening as soon as she sees me.
“Lapochka.” I dart inside, vaulting over the fallen door to get to her. I go to reach for her hand but notice that she has been tied up, zip ties cutting into her skin.
Ublyudok!
I’ll gut that fucking Aslanov for laying a hand on her!
Seeing her in this state makes my blood boil. Her satin hair is all tangled, and her skin is no longer soft. She’s dehydrated. There are small gashes everywhere. Not to mention her eyes. They look so hurt. So betrayed. So defeated.
“Niko, no! You shouldn’t be here,” she whimpers. “You shouldn’t have—”
“Ever heard of knocking?” A voice interrupts her.
I tense up, almost forgetting about the other body in here. Dread starts to sink into my stomach. That voice. That fucking voice.
I turn around to face the source. A man stands in the doorway of the shipping container, his legs shoulder width apart. Against the dying light, his menacing figure appears as a silhouette, but I get a clearer image of him the more I look.
It’s him.
The piece of human garbage who took my mother’s life, tried to cripple my empire, and tortured my pregnant woman. The things I want to do to him would earn me a special place in hell.
Mudak!
It’s been a while since I’ve seen Ronan Aslanov in the flesh. He’s definitely aged, his features look weathered, more angular. Except for his eyes. He has the same cold, predatory eyes that I’d recognize anywhere.
I meet those gray, lifeless eyes that have haunted my nights since the day he took my mother from me, and hate him even more than I thought I did already. First, he took my mother’s life, and now he thinks he can do the same with Lauren and my daughter?
Yebanyy mudak!
He remains still, the ends of his expensive suit jacket blowing in the wind when a cold breeze passes through.
He looks smart in full black, his suit perfectly tailored to fit his body.
The bastard’s power doesn’t come from his frame— it comes from the fear he inspires, the chess game he’s always playing, always three moves ahead of his enemies.
Just like he is now.
I willingly walked into his trap to save my pregnant woman’s life. He has me by the balls and he knows it.
“You’re predictable, Niko.”
I flex my fists, extending my gaze past him to see if anybody else is here. I wonder where Timur’s at. Surely, he would have been right behind me, following in my direction. He’s a smart guy. I would like to think that he’s figured out where I am… unless he got held up.
Blyad.
I keep my features relaxed, but on the inside, feel white hot rage coursing through me.
“Don’t worry.” I can feel Ronan staring into my fucking soul. “Your friend will join us in a second.”
I lock my jaw. My friend?
Blyad.
The bastard has Timur too?
My blood turns to ice, but my resolve hardens to steel. Whatever happens next, there are two things I’m certain of.
One, we’re colossally fucked.
Two, I won’t rest until I get Lauren out of here alive.