CHAPTER 17 #3
On the command, he heaves upward with a primal roar of effort, and I launch myself off his hands.
I sail through the air, completely weightless for a terrifying, heart-stopping second.
The red lasers blur past me, the heat grazing the skin of my arms and legs as my slip flutters wildly around my thighs.
I arc perfectly over the tripwire, the world slowing to a terrifying crawl as I thread the needle through the gap in the grid.
I hit the marble floor on the other side, landing squarely on the balls of my feet.
My knees bend deep, absorbing the shock of the impact with absolute silence.
I don't make a single sound. I spin around instantly, my knife raised, just in time to see Andrei take a short, explosive running start.
He hurdles the tripwire in one massive, predatory motion.
His massive body clears the obstacles with a terrifying, unnatural ease, looking less like a man and more like a fucking apex predator.
He lands heavily beside me, skidding slightly on the polished marble.
His large hand shoots out, slamming against the wall to arrest his momentum.
"You made it." He looks at me, his chest heaving.
"Nice landing."
"Check the door."
We are past the grid. We both collapse back against the wall on either side of the heavy oak door, dripping with sweat, our chests violently rising and falling in perfect unison.
I look over at him, my eyes wide, my pupils blown out from the adrenaline high.
The utter silence of the hallway isn't terrifying anymore; it's a massive, shared victory.
For a split second, the reality of what he is and what I am vanishes completely.
We just cheated a high-tech execution together.
The unspoken communication between us has become terrifyingly intuitive.
I reach out without thinking, my trembling fingers tentatively pressing against his suited arm in a silent, adrenaline-fueled 'thank you' before I violently pull my hand back, disgusted by my own weakness.
"We're through."
"Don't get comfortable," Andrei says, his eyes instantly hardening back into the cold, ruthless glare of a Bratva warlord.
"You did well, Ruby."
The moment of respite shatters. Andrei straightens up to his full, towering height, ripping the magazine out of his stolen pistol to check the rounds before slamming it back into the grip with cold, mechanical efficiency.
He racks the slide, the metallic clack sounding loud enough to wake the dead, and then looks down at the combat knife still clutched in a death grip in my right hand.
He gives me a slow, appreciative nod—not because I survived the lasers, but because of the violent way I’m holding the blade.
I'm ready to sink it into someone's throat.
He reaches out, his thumb swiping a streak of dirt and drywall dust off my forehead in a gesture that is entirely too tender for a man about to commit a murder.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Hemlock is behind this door."
"No mercy, Ruby. Not for him."
I tighten my grip on the hilt, testing the weight of my feet on the floor, making sure my knees aren't going to give out when the violence starts again. We stack up on either side of the heavy door, falling into a natural, lethal combat formation. I realize with a sickening jolt that he doesn't even need to tell me where to stand anymore. I know exactly where his blind spots are. The synchronization from the hallway trap has bled straight into how we function as a unit. I am becoming a part of his violent fucking world, and I’m terrified that I’m actually good at it.
"I've got your six."
"Wait for my signal."
"On three."
Andrei reaches out slowly, his large hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.
He grips it, fully expecting the heavy oak to be locked down like a vault, but the brass handle rotates smoothly with a soft, sickening click.
He pushes the door open an inch, peering into the dim, opulent office beyond.
The faint sound of classical music spills out through the crack, mixing with the heavy scent of expensive tobacco.
Andrei looks back at me, his jaw clenching, his ice-blue eyes narrowed with absolute suspicion.
A million-dollar hallway of death traps only to find an unlocked door at the end of it.
It feels wrong. It feels like walking into the mouth of a shark.
"It’s open."
"He’s waiting for us."
"Blyad, I don't like this."
We share a final, loaded look. My knuckles crack as I grip my knife so hard my hand goes numb. Andrei holds up his left hand, raising three thick fingers to count down the breach. Three. Two. He tenses his massive leg, preparing to kick the heavy oak door wide open so we can storm the room.
"Now or never."
"Take the left side."
"Don't hesitate."
Just as his heavy boot leaves the floor, a sharp, electronic click echoes from the far end of the hallway—the exact direction we just spent ten minutes crawling from.
It’s immediately followed by a low, aggressive, rhythmic thrumming sound that vibrates through the marble beneath my feet.
We both freeze, whipping our heads around.
We didn't trip a single wire. We didn't break a single beam.
But looking back down the corridor, the shimmering geometric web of red lasers violently flickers.
The complex pattern shifts, the beams multiplying and crossing until the entire hallway is blocked by a solid, impenetrable, burning wall of red light.
"What the fuck was that?" I whisper, the blood draining completely from my face.
"The grid is resetting."
"We're trapped."