CHAPTER 12
ANDREI P.O.V.
The heavy fire door groaned like a dying bitch when I cracked it open, the metallic protest setting my teeth on edge.
I peered into the red-lit corridor of the fortieth floor.
The air hit my face, stale and mechanical.
Blyad, the air smells like ozone and panic.
I pulled Ruby flush against my back, using my massive frame as a human shield, feeling the frantic but steady beat of her heart right through my jacket and into my shoulder blades.
I hated that she was behind me where I couldn't see her face, but tactically, it was the only way. I waited, counting the seconds, scanning the flickering shadows for any sign of motion. I reached back without looking, my hand finding hers where she gripped the combat knife I’d given her.
I adjusted the angle of the blade in her hand, my fingers lingering over her cold knuckles, feeling the rigid tension in her tendons.
"Don't breathe until I tell you to," I muttered, my voice barely a vibration in the freezing stairwell.
"If you slip, I leave you behind. Do you understand?
Stay in my shadow, malen'kaya kukla." I felt her nod against my spine.
Her absolute lack of verbal protest was fucking intoxicating.
Any other woman would be screaming her head off or crying about her brother selling her out, but she was just vibrating behind me with this silent, feral energy.
"If that door opens, you drive the blade upward into the soft spot under the chin.
Don't look at the lights, look at the floor for shadows.
" I squeezed her hand once, hard. "Your hand is shaking.
Stop it. I can feel your heart through my jacket.
The fortieth floor is a graveyard in the making.
Keep your eyes on my neck. If I drop, you run.
" I let go of her hand, shifting my weight.
"There are hunters here, Ruby. Real ones.
This is where the money turns into monsters. Wait for the click of the latch."
I pushed the door open the rest of the way, stepping out.
We slipped into the hallway, a high-end corporate gauntlet of glass-walled offices and plush charcoal carpeting that smelled like expensive furniture polish and gun oil.
Emergency lights pulsed in a slow, crimson strobe, casting long, bloody shadows across the floor.
I kept my hand clamped firmly on her hip, steering her with a possessive authority that left zero room for hesitation.
Every time I pulled her around scattered debris, her hip bone ground against my palm, her breathing hitching in perfect sync with mine.
I was evaluating every micro-movement she made, looking for flaws, waiting for her to become a liability in a firefight, but every time she matched my stride, this dark, twisted spark of approval flared in my chest. Her compliance was almost too fucking perfect.
It made me wonder what kind of hell she was already living in before she got dragged into this cage.
"Step where I step. Nowhere else," I whispered, keeping my eyes locked on the glass reflections.
"The carpet mutes the sound, but the glass reflects everything. Watch the corners, not the center. You’re moving too heavy.
Lighten your heels." I kicked a shattered desk lamp out of the way.
"Suka, someone’s been through here already.
Don't look at the bodies in the offices. They’re irrelevant.
Stay low. The glass is thin." I pulled her tighter against my side.
"If we’re spotted, hit the deck. You feel that?
The air is moving. Keep your thumb on the spine of the blade.
" She shifted her grip exactly as I told her.
"You’re doing well. Better than I expected.
Don't get cocky. Silence is our only friend right now.
The red lights hide the blood. Watch your footing. "
A muffled, wet scream tore through the silence from an office down the hall.
It was followed by a sickening, high-pitched laugh that echoed off the glass partitions.
I froze mid-step, my body turning into a pillar of stone.
Before Ruby could even gasp, I slapped my hand over her mouth, my thumb pressing hard into the soft skin of her jaw to keep her silent.
I pulled her back against the wall, our bodies merging into a single shadow.
My hand over her mouth smelled strongly of gunpowder and expensive soap from the pre-event reception, and I felt her bite down on her lower lip right against my palm, her eyes wide and fixed entirely on me.
"Not a sound," I breathed into her ear. I listened to the wet hacking noise coming from the office.
"That was a letter opener, or something small.
Slow work. Listen to the rhythm of the laughter.
" I pressed her flush against the drywall.
"I have you. Don't move. It’s just noise, Ruby. Ignore the pain in it. He’s distracted.
That makes him weak." The metallic tang of fresh blood was already drifting down the corridor.
I hated the way her eyes darted toward the office.
I wanted her focus entirely on me, even in the middle of a fucking slaughterhouse.
"Breathe through your nose. Slowly. We have the advantage of the dark.
Someone is playing with their food. Amateur.
" Another jagged scream ripped through the air.
"Wait for the next scream. I'm going to let go.
If you make a sound, I'll be the last thing you see. Eyes on me. Only on me. Do you hear the wetness in the sound? That’s a lung puncture. "
I dropped my hand from her mouth and crept forward, my movements agonizingly slow, drawing her with me until we reached the edge of a mahogany-framed glass door.
Inside the bright, clinical overhead lights clashed with the red hallway strobes.
Warren Gault. The weak-chinned tech mogul was hunched over a captive woman tied to a chair.
Gault’s tuxedo was rumpled, his face slick with sour sweat and a disturbing, manic glee as he jabbed a silver letter opener into the woman’s shoulder.
The fat piece of shit wiped a smear of blood onto his silk tie, his hands trembling with a sick adrenaline rush.
He was an insult to the art of violence.
Killing him wouldn't even be a chore; it was going to be a public service. I decided right then that Gault’s sheer fucking incompetence made him the perfect training dummy for Ruby.
"Look at him. See the lack of balance?" I murmured, keeping us hidden in the blind spot of the doorframe.
"He’s a pig in a suit, Ruby. He hasn't checked his six once. He deserves to die. His grip is wrong. He’ll lose the weapon if she fights.
" I watched Gault wheeze heavily, a spilled glass of scotch dripping off the desk next to him. "Wealth doesn't make you a killer. It just makes you a target. Watch his feet. He’s heavy on his toes. See how he’s sweating? He’s more afraid than she is.
" I leaned a fraction closer to her. "This is Warren Gault. He owns half the city's servers and none of his own soul. He thinks he’s an apex predator tonight. He’s about to learn better.
Don't feel sorry for her. Focus on him." I felt my pulse steady into that cold, dead rhythm it always found right before a strike. "I’m going to take him apart. You’re going to watch how. A messy kill is a dangerous kill. He’s making too much noise. The neighbors will complain."
I leaned in close, my lips grazing the shell of Ruby’s ear, my breath a warm, dangerous contrast to the freezing air conditioning dumping into the hallway.
I could feel the coiling of her muscles, a predatory tension that mirrored my own.
Her eyes weren't filled with the watery tears of a victim. They were hard, hazel glass, tracking Gault’s every move with a chilling, clinical focus that made my fucking blood sing.
Most people look away. She was leaning in.
I slid my hand down to her waist, my fingers digging brutally into the thin fabric of her slip, anchoring her to the spot so she couldn't run.
"Don't blink. You'll miss the transition," I whispered.
"Tell me what you see when you look at him. You’re not trembling anymore.
Why?" I pressed her hip against the doorframe. "He is the reason you were in that cage. Remember that. His life is worth less than the carpet he’s standing on. Watch how I enter. It’s about the blind spot.
" I tightened my grip on her waist. "You feel that, Ruby? That’s the power of knowing when someone dies. He’s already a ghost. He just doesn't know it yet.
I want you to see the exact moment the light goes out.
" I let go of her slip. "Stay here until I give the signal.
This is the first lesson of the night. Every strike must have a purpose.
Do you want to see him bleed, malen'kaya kukla? "
I didn't wait for her answer. I moved. It wasn't a dash; it was a terrifyingly fluid explosion of controlled motion.
The air in the room seemed to displace as I entered, a sudden cold draft sweeping over the desk that made the scattered corporate papers flutter wildly.
I crossed the distance in two long, silent strides, my leather soles making absolutely no sound on the hardwood floor.
I was a shadow detaching from the wall. Too slow, Warren, I thought, manifesting in the periphery of his vision just as he raised his trembling hand for another strike.
Behind me, I heard the sharp intake of Ruby's breath, freezing her right where I left her.