38. Aurora
38
AURORA
Bullets crack overhead, snapping like rubber-bands against walls.
"Get to the car," Ruslan had said. Three simple words, but a stream of bullets has made that impossible now.
I'm halfway to the vehicle when I see him.
Kristofer.
My heart stops dead in my chest.
He stands between me and the car, a hideous grin spreading across his bloated face. My veins freeze as he licks his wormy lips.
The sound of gunfire intensifies. I steal a glance back to see Ruslan pinned down behind a pillar, Semyon's men closing in on him.
He can't reach me.
"Jaaaamie," Kristofer sings, closing the distance between us with unhurried steps despite the chaos. "I missed you."
My babies kick inside me, as if sensing the danger.
I press a hand protectively against my belly, mind racing through options that grow slimmer by the second.
I can't get to the car. Not now.
The theater entrance gapes to my right, dark and empty.
"Remember how good we were together?" Kristofer calls, like we're old lovers rather than predator and prey. "How much I loved you?"
A bullet ricochets off the pavement near my feet. I flinch, the sound yanking me from my paralysis.
The theater. It's my only chance.
My legs move before my brain fully decides. I pivot and dash toward the theater's glass doors, throwing my weight against them, praying they'll open.
They give way. I stumble into the dark lobby, heart hammering against my ribs as I hear Kristofer's shout of rage behind me.
"Jamie! Come back here!"
I rush into the main screening room, darkness swallowing me whole. The giant screen looms ahead, illuminated only by the exit signs' faint red glow. My lungs burn with each desperate breath as I navigate between rows of empty seats towards the backstage.
"Where are you going, Jamie?" Kristofer's voice echoes behind me, singsong and chilling. "You know this place is rigged to blow. There's nowhere to run."
I duck down between the seats, trying to hide as I run.
"No-one is coming to save you this time," he calls out, closer now. "No Russian thug to pull me off you. No one to stop what I'm about to do to you!"
I whirl around and see him coming closer.
Something metallic glints in his hand, catching what little light exists in this darkness.
A knife.
And that's when I remember the message that came with the teddy bear.
I'm going to cut out his bastard from your belly.
Rage explodes inside me like a wildfire. My hand presses harder against my stomach where my babies—my twins—flutter with fear.
"No," I whisper, and the word carries a strength I didn't know I possessed. "I won't let you."
Seven years I've run from this monster. Seven years I've let fear rule me. Seven years of looking over my shoulder, of flinching at every camera flash, of telling myself that Jamie Fields was dead.
But Jamie Fields isn't dead.
She's right here.
With Aurora Dragunov's strength flowing through her veins.
I back away from Kristofer's advancing shape, reaching for something—anything—that I can use to put a barrier between myself and Kristofer.
That's when my fingers brush against a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. Without hesitation, I yank it free and discharge it directly into his face.
He screams, stumbling backward, knife flailing blindly.
"You fucking bitch!"
My babies kick again, fierce and alive, triggering a primal, maternal rage I've never felt before.
"You will not touch my children," I growl, voice barely recognizable even to myself. "You will not take anyone else from me."
Kristofer wipes frantically at his eyes, trying to clear the chemicals. The knife gleams as he steadies himself.
In the dim light and covered in the white discharge from the fire extinguisher, he looks like a demon.
"What are you gonna do, Jamie?" He snarls. "You couldn't stop me before. You can't stop me now."
My hand tightens around the fire extinguisher. I grip it tight, feeling its reassuring weight.
"My name," I say through clenched teeth. "Is Aurora Dragunov!"
The fear that once paralyzed me transforms into something else entirely: determination.
Ruslan might be pinned down outside, but he's taught me something important: I'm not a victim anymore.
I am a woman who negotiated with the lord of Las Vegas.
I am a wife who stands beside the pakhan of pakhans.
I am a mother who will protect her children at any cost.
Kristofer lunges, knife slashing toward my belly as I swing the fire extinguisher.
He howls in pain, eyes wild with rage and disbelief.
And the knife falls to the floor.
I swing the fire extinguisher again, this time aiming for his head.
But he's ready.
A meaty hand shoots up, catching the metal canister mid-swing. Our eyes lock for one terrifying moment. His pupils are dilated with rage, while mine are wide with desperation.
"You were always predictable, you dumb bitch," he snarls.
With a vicious twist, he wrenches the extinguisher from my grip. The sudden loss of resistance sends me stumbling backward. I twist as I fall, managing to land on my side, as the air is driven out of my lungs.
And that's when I see it between the rows of seats.
The knife.
I lunge into the row of seats. My fingers scrabble desperately across the sticky theater carpet while my babies kick frantically inside of me.
My hand closes around the cold metal handle just as a primal roar fills the darkness behind me.
"YOU FUCKING WHORE!"
I twist my body, knife clutched in my grip.
Kristofer looms above me, face contorted with hatred, the fire extinguisher raised high over his head. Time slows to a crawl as I watch him bring it down in a vicious arc aimed directly at my skull.