Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
nocturne
Ikept my foot pressed to the gas the entire journey; the navigation said sixty minutes but I got there in just under thirty.
The truck's back-end swings aggressively, tires skidding as I fight for control up the road to the warehouse I know all too well.
Volokov's jeep comes into view, alongside a white van.
Shit. I yank the hand brake up as Phantom trains his gun, pushing out of the vehicle with it raised.
We move in sync as we round the jeep. Both of us are stalking and checking inside the van.
The passenger side door is ajar with the window blown out.
Phantom points his gun in and looks inside since the blacked-out windows shield the interior. “Clear.”
My steps pick up on their own, propelling me to the van. Phantom grabs the back doors, throwing them open as I stand off, gun aimed inside. But it's empty. The chains inside the van rattle my nerves, the realization of their intended purpose turning my blood cold.
Phantom catches up with me as we approach the warehouse entrance, each taking a side.
But the dead body at the entrance, and the one slumped against the container stops me in my tracks.
Volokov lies in a pool of his own blood.
He's been dead a while, judging by the size of the puddle that’s seeped out around him.
My girl caught him good. It trails off to my left, where I notice footsteps smeared in crimson.
Then, I see it, a blood-stained hand cradling a phone, limp.
“Brodie!” her name tears from my throat in a thunderous panic as I run to her.
“I'll check the place,” Phantom calls behind me, heading up the stairs, gun raised, aim never faltering since we left the truck.
I yank my gun strap over my head, dropping to my knees beside her unconscious body.
No. No. No. She's not dead. I reach out to touch her, her skin feels chilled and she's head to toe in blood. I’m not sure how much belongs to her or him. She’s in bad shape either way, arms covered in bruises, her gorgeous face is a mess - lips and right eye are swollen, and there's dark bruises taking over the crevasses of her defined features.
She has an inch cut across her temple with grazes surrounding it.
I crouch down to her chest, picking up on labored breaths.
She’s alive, but she’s been roughed up, and I know something has damaged her ribs.
I can’t even look at Volokov right now, or else I’ll burn this place to the ground.
“Brodie. Brodie, wake up. It's me.” I run my hand down her arm that has his fingers imprinted, removing his mark and replacing it with my touch, my other hand fisting. I’m in the mood to mutilate a corpse.
Her eyes flutter at my hand roaming up and down her arm, trying to control my movements as my body fibrates with a vehemence I've never felt before in my life.
“That’s it Malyshka, come back to me. I'm here.” She manages to open the one unswollen eye, but it's out of focus, rolling to the back of her head. “Lev?” Fuck. The weakness in her voice grips my cold heart in an iron fist. I finally glare at Volokov’s body, wondering how I can bring him back just to prolong his suffering until the end of time.
“It's me.” I turn my focus to her as I speak, my smile is faint, painfully forced.
Seeing her in this state has snapped something inside of me, likely the last bit of empathy I showed earlier for any other living being, the only thing that reminded me I was a human.
Graves is going to be one unfortunate son of a bitch when I get my hands on him.
He can be the one to atone for his buddy over there.
“The place is empty, Noc.” Phantom's voice is void of all his usual cockiness - he's hurting.
They've lost a member of their unit. I couldn't bring myself to tell Brodie that Blitz was gone, not when I wasn't sure of her location or the threats present.
She could have stalled, became vulnerable and likely been killed.
I didn't technically lie, she was being taken care of.
Hawk had arrived thirty minutes after she died, and without a medic.
He knew, he knew from what Phantom told him there was no way she'd survive until he reached us.
We wrapped her body up and put her in the back of his convoy, so Brodie could say goodbye later.
Graves didn't head back to their base so his whereabouts are still unknown. The status of 656 is also uncertain, but Hawk expects them to be at base by the time we return. This Gunner seemed to be the only one Graves trusted enough to bring to the meeting. I’m dragged back by the sound of Brodie’s gurgled cough, and it puts a pause on dwelling any deeper into a murderous state.
I pocket the phone in her hand and gently scoop her in my arms. My movements are careful, but she groans as I rise to my feet.
Phantom moves ahead, checking the tree line in case any of Volokov’s dogs have decided to show up.
I slide inside the cruiser as he opens the door, still clutching her limp body in my arms. He jumps into the driver’s seat, phone already in hand as he dials Hawk, the empty warehouse fading in the background.
His voice cuts through the silent, and the forest looms around us, but this time our exit is controlled – more deliberate than our chaotic arrival.
“You get her?” I pick up on the anxiety in Hawk’s voice.
I know how much his team means to him, even if this did start out as a plot to monitor Graves, he too has fallen victim to allowing himself to care for another human being.
He also feels partly responsible for Brodie.
He was asked to protect her, a responsibility I put upon him like a sacrificial oath.
“Yeah, we're in the cruiser heading back from the warehouse. She's still unconscious.” Phantom speaks low, and I look down into her closed eyes, my thumb stroking her less bruised side to comfort her, or maybe it’s to reassure myself that she’s in my arms.
The vehicle jolts as it hits a bump in the road, pushing a low whimper from Brodie’s parted lips.
My glare locks with Phantoms in the visor, grinding my teeth, his apology murmured as he breaks eye contact to focus back on the road.
“Christ,” Hawk sigh sounding like a gust of wind through the speaker.
“Rhaine and Hunter are waiting on my orders, and still no status on Graves.
I've told them both to stay put until I call for their return.
'' I mull that over. Graves likely initially headed back there, noticed Hawk’s left, assumed he knew what had happened and decided to abandon the base and left his team behind to fend for themselves.
He's one hell of a Commander; the first sign of trouble and it's every man for himself.
“I'm sending you a number. Guy’s named Rodion.
He's a doctor of sorts… call him and tell him it's for me and give him the location of the base. Tell him I'll give him ten grand. He’ll also be able to help with…” My voice trails off, eyes scanning over Brodie as she remains asleep in my arms. “If he pushes make it twenty.
'' Rodion is a doctor, a black market one at that.
He's a guy Volokov often used whenever someone useful in his inner circle needed any sort of medical attention, the whole works – even the dead.
He serves the underworld, turning a blind eye to whatever you're into as long as his phone pings to alert a new transfer into his bank account - one that includes a comma. “Got it.” Hawk cuts the call.
I pull a phone from my pocket, noticing the blood crusting the screen - it’s Volokov’s.
I shift ever so slightly to get my own device and watch Brodie as her brows knit together.
“Sorry, Malyshka,” I whisper, and settle her back into position.
I slide the lock up on my phone and send Hawk the doctor’s number.
He responds instantly. ‘Calling him now.’ The cruiser falls into silence, the only sound that of the muffled engine working at speed, and I zone in on Brodie's breathing to make sure there’s no changes to her state.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I think back to her last words to me before we arrived.
My hand grips Volokov's phone, the screen coming to life with a load of missed calls and texts.
Natalia is dominating the numbers, followed by a couple of his loyal dogs, but there's a recently sent one to Graves. I open it, my eyes staring at a photo of Volokov lying in a pool of his own blood, throat sliced open from each end. The message I read under it from Brodie summons a sadistic grin. Even in her state, she managed to taunt Graves with a threat: You’re next Commander, the truth WILL prevail.
This little demon that I hold in my arms, with the deceptive face of an angel, consumes me.
She's the fire to my flame, the peace to my chaos.
The devil always looks after his angels, and I'll forever kneel at her feet.
We got back to Ashfall’s base eight hours ago.
Rodion arrived in his unmarked truck, which contained every bit of illegally acquired equipment you could imagine.
He did a few tests on Brodie and scanned her over.
Thankfully, there wasn't anything that needed surgery.
He said she likely took multiple blows which caused a small amount of internal bleeding and fluid build-up in her lungs.
She has internal bruising, a couple cracked ribs and a concussion.
He managed to stitch up her face. I haven't been able to sleep or close my fucking eyes thinking about Volokov, putting his hands on her.
That if she wasn't awake to save herself, then she'd likely be on her way to some scumbag who would've purchased her at one of Volokov’s seedy auctions. The image makes me bloodthirsty.