Chapter 29
Kira
The sound of gunfire has been echoing for a good ten minutes. I’m freaking out. I want to be in there. I want to fight.
My hands drip the steering wheel. The car is running and I’m ready to hit the gas and rush headlong into danger.
“Don’t do it,” Anya says quietly.
“I can’t sit here,” I groan.
“You have to. They’ll come out. We’ll go. But not until then.”
“What if—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t think it. We have to stay positive.”
I love my sister. I really do, but her personality is the total opposite of mine. I’ve done all I could to make sure she could be all peace and love. But right now…no. I’m pissed. Negative. Terrified. I don’t want to be a cheerleader. I don’t want to look for the silver lining.
I want to scream and rage.
"So, what's the plan?" Anya asks suddenly. "After this is over. Are you and Maksim leaving Russia?"
I glance at her. She's staring straight ahead at the warehouse, but I can tell by the forced casualness in her voice that she's trying to distract me.
"I don't know," I admit. "We haven't really talked about it."
"But you're thinking about it."
"Of course I'm thinking about it." My hands tighten on the wheel. "Raising a child here, in this world? It's not exactly ideal."
"Where would you go?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere." I echo Maksim's words from days ago. "Somewhere the bratva doesn't reach."
"Does that place even exist?"
"It has to."
More gunfire erupts from the warehouse. I flinch at each crack, imagining Maksim in the middle of it. Dodging bullets. Fighting for his life.
"He's going to be okay," Anya says softly. "He survived six years of torture. He can survive this."
"Can he?" The words burst out of me. "Anya, he's already been shot twice in the last two weeks. His body is held together with stitches and stubbornness. How much more can he take?"
"As much as he needs to. Because he loves you. Because he has something to fight for now."
I want to believe her. Want to have her optimism.
But I've seen too much death to trust in happy endings.
"What about you?" I ask, deflecting. "What will you do after?"
"I don’t know. I’d still like to go to Paris.”
“Good. I want you to.”
The gunfire intensifies. I count the shots, trying to distinguish between different weapons. Trying to figure out who's winning.
"Tell me about the baby," Anya says. "Have you thought about names?"
"Not really." Though that's a lie. I've thought about little else during the quiet moments. "It's too early. I don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet."
"But if you had to guess?"
"A boy." I don't know why I think that. Just a feeling. "With Maksim's eyes and stubborn streak."
"God help you if they inherit both your personalities." Anya actually laughs.
I'm about to respond when the first explosion hits.
The shockwave slams into our car even from a block away. The windows rattle. The entire vehicle rocks on its suspension. My hands jerk on the steering wheel reflexively.
"What was that?" Anya gasps.
I don't answer. I'm already staring at the warehouse, my heart in my throat.
Another explosion. This one bigger. Louder. I feel it in my chest, in my bones. Orange flames bloom against the night sky, painting everything in hellish light.
"No." The word comes out strangled. "No, no, no."
A third explosion. The entire side of the warehouse collapses inward. Metal screams. Concrete crumbles. Flames shoot upward, hungry and violent.
"Maksim." I'm already reaching for the door handle. "He's in there. He's—"
"Kira, wait!" Anya grabs my arm. "You can't—"
"He's in there!" I'm screaming now, fighting against her grip. "Let me go! I have to—"
Another explosion cuts off my words. The warehouse is an inferno now. Flames consume everything. Smoke billows into the sky, thick and black.
No one survives that. No one could survive that.
"Maksim!" I'm out of the car now, running toward the warehouse. My legs carry me forward even though my mind knows it's useless.
He's gone. The father of my child is gone.
"Kira, stop!" Anya is behind me, chasing me. "You can't go in there!"
I don't care. I have to reach him. Have to find him.
Figures emerge from the smoke. Men running, stumbling, some dragging others. I scan their faces desperately, searching for the one face I need to see.
Not him. Not him. Not him.
Then I see Semyon. He's limping, his face covered in soot and blood. Two other men support him on either side.
But Maksim isn't with them.
"Where is he?" I reach Semyon, grabbing his jacket. "Where's Maksim?"
His eyes meet mine, and I see the answer before he speaks.
"I'm sorry," he rasps. "He went back for your father. The building—it came down. I tried to stop him, but he—"
"No." I shake my head violently. "No, he's not dead. He can't be dead."
"Kira—"
"He promised me!" I'm hitting Semyon's chest now, pounding uselessly against him. "He promised he wouldn't die! He promised!"
Strong hands catch my wrists. I struggle against them, but Semyon's grip is iron despite his injuries.
"Listen to me," he says urgently. "We have to go. Roman's men are still out there. Maksim made me promise to get you to safety if anything went wrong.”
I pull away.
"Kira, what are you doing?" Anya grabs my arm. "You can't—"
"I have to—I can't just—"
"You're pregnant!" She's crying now. "You can't run in there! The baby—"
"Will have no father if Maksim dies!" The words come out harsh.
I wrench free from Anya's grip and run toward the inferno.
The heat hits me like a physical wall, scorching my lungs with each breath. Flames climb what's left of the warehouse walls, consuming everything. The roar of the fire drowns out my sister's screams behind me.
"Maksim!" My voice tears from my throat, raw and desperate. "Maksim!"
The devastation is complete. The entire structure has collapsed into itself, twisted metal and shattered concrete creating a hellscape of destruction. Nothing could survive this. No one. There’s one side of the building left but it’s nothing but rebar and walls that are crumbling into dust.
My legs give out twenty feet from the flames. I drop to my knees on the cracked pavement, the impact jarring through my bones. "No, no, no."
This can't be happening. I can't lose him again.
"Maksim!" I'm screaming now. "Please! Please don't be dead!"
Anya crashes down beside me, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Kira, we have to go. We have to—"
"I'm not leaving him!" I try to stand, to run into the flames. I don't care if I burn. I don't care if I die. I just need to find him.
Semyon appears on my other side, blood streaming down his face from a gash above his eye. "Kira, he's gone. The whole third floor came down. No one could—"
"Shut up!" I round on him, fury and grief warring in my chest. "Don't you dare say it. Don't you dare tell me he's dead!"
My skin feels like it's blistering even from this distance.
Anya is crying, her arms wrapping around me from behind. "Kira, please. The baby. Think about the baby."
The grief threatens to swallow me whole. I can't breathe. Can't think.
"We need to move," Semyon says urgently.
"Let them come! Let them kill me! I don't want to live without him!"
"Kira, you don't mean that." Anya's voice breaks. "Please. We have to go."
"Holy shit." Semyon's voice cuts through my grief.
I barely register it.
"Holy shit!" He's shouting now, pointing. "Look!"
Anya gasps. Her grip on me tightens.
I follow their gazes through my tears, not understanding what I'm seeing at first.
Movement. On the second floor where part of the wall still stands. A shadow against the flames.
Then the shadow becomes a figure. A man.
He's at a window, silhouetted against the inferno behind him. Even from here, even through the smoke and fire, I recognize the way he moves.
"Maksim," I breathe.
He doesn't hesitate. Doesn't look down to calculate the fall. He just jumps.
Time slows. I watch him arc through the air, his body twisting. He's aiming for a pile of debris to break his fall.
He hits with a sickening thud that I feel in my bones. The pile shifts, absorbing some of the impact, but not all of it.
"Maksim!" I'm on my feet, running before I realize I'm moving.
He's not moving. Just lying there in a crumpled heap on top of the debris pile.
Then I see it. Another shape beside him. Another body.
My father.
Maksim got him out.
I reach them just as Maksim coughs, his whole body convulsing. He's alive. Barely, but alive.
"Don't move," I gasp, dropping to my knees beside him. "Don't—oh God, there's so much blood."
His eyes find mine. Even through the pain and exhaustion, they light up when he sees me.
"Told you," he rasps. "Not leaving."
Behind us, the warehouse groans. What's left of the structure shudders, preparing for final collapse.
"We have to move!" Semyon is there, grabbing Maksim under the arms. "Now!"
I look at my father. He's unconscious but breathing. Anya and one of Semyon's men are already dragging him away from the building.
Another man helps me support Maksim's other side. He coughs and chokes.
"Almost there," I tell him, even though we're not. Even though the car is still a block away and he's leaving a trail of blood behind us.
The warehouse gives its final death rattle. The remaining walls collapse inward with a roar that shakes the ground beneath our feet.
We keep moving. Stumbling. Running. Maksim's weight nearly takes us all down twice. The other men drag my father.
Finally, mercifully, we reach the cars. We load Maksim into the backseat while my father is loaded into another car. I climb in with Maksim and to my surprise Anya gets in the driver’s seat.
"Drive!" Semyon shouts to Anya. "Don't stop for anything!"
The engine roars to life. We lurch forward, tires squealing.
I look at Maksim. He’s covered in gray dust that makes his teeth and the white of his eyes look even brighter. But he’s smiling.
“You’re crazy,” I say.
“I’m alive.”
“With another hole in your body,” I mutter.
He grins and then drops his head back and the smile fades. He’s in pain. He put on a brave face, but I knew it wasn’t real. He was in bad shape.
Again.