Twenty #3
His filthy blood bursts from his throat, splattering across my face, hot and sticky. He tries to lift his gun, but I grab his weakening arm, forcing it down as his strength drains away. For a few seconds, he gurgles and chokes, then collapses to his knees.
Blinded by fury, I shove him down, straddle his chest, and stab him again and again. I want to send his rotten soul straight to hell. Somewhere down the hall, someone’s shouting my name—it’s Maxim, his voice echoing like it’s rising from the depths of the ocean.
But I don’t stop. I just keep striking. Then hands clamp down on my shoulders. I spin around like a wounded tiger, the shard raised high to defend myself—
And freeze.
Maxim’s standing there, eyes wide, taking in the blood, the carnage, me.
He’s wearing a bulletproof vest over a black T-shirt, his jaw rough with days of stubble.
Black-clad men rush past us down the corridor, but Maxim and I are locked on each other.
A single thought echoes through me. He came. He finally came.
The adrenaline crashes, and the shard slips from my trembling fingers. Maxim drops to his knees beside me, takes my hand, and his eyes dart to the slice across my palm. Then they rise to my face, my blood-soaked, trembling face.
“Are you hurt?”
I shake my head slowly, staring at the mangled corpse beside us.
“I killed your father, Maxim.”
His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against his chest. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his body, it shatters whatever’s left of my control.
Tears spill as the words break out of me. “I took a man’s life, Maxim.”
He presses me tight to his chest, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “He wasn’t a man, he was an animal. An animal I should’ve killed before he ever touched you.”
He rises to his feet, steady and firm. “We’re getting out of here now, Ava. We’re going home.”
“Maria,” I breathe out. “We have to save Maria.”
“You’re my first priority right now.”
I shake my head, thrashing in his arms. “I’m not leaving without her!”
He studies me for a long moment, eyes narrowing before he nods slowly. “Everyone in this place is either dead or free. All the women are free to go.”
“She’s just a child, Maxim. Please.”
“All right, I’ll see to it. But first, I need to get you somewhere secure.”
We leave that cursed house and settle into the back seat of a black SUV. Maxim drapes a blanket around me, wraps my cut hand, then gently wipes the blood from my face with a damp cloth. His face is so drawn, his muscles so tight, that I wonder if he still doesn’t know the truth about me.
“They framed me, Maxim. I didn’t do anything. I swear. There was this man named Roberto Rosa—”
Before I can finish, he presses his index finger to my lips, hushing me. “Shh. I know. I know everything.”
Tears well up in my eyes again. “Then why do you look at me like you hate me?”
He cradles the back of my neck and strokes it softly. “It’s not you I hate. It’s me. For bringing you into this. For letting them touch you. For every second you suffered because of me.”
Now that he understands, everything turns around, and the anger over what he did to me floods back in. My throat tightens, and I slap him hard across the face. The cuts on my palm sting like fire.
He takes the hit without flinching, head bowing low. “You have every right to hate me,” he whispers.
“I do hate you!” I sob. “I hate you for taking my daughter away. I hate you for throwing me out like garbage. I hate you for what happened to April and Gerard, for making me beat another woman half to death! I hate you, Maxim. I hate you so much I never want to see your face again!”
With every bit of hate I throw at him, his jaw locks tighter, his eyes grow wilder, but he stays silent, just listening to my cries.
The car door opens, and Maria leaps in, her eyes red and swollen from crying. The sight of her wipes Maxim from my mind, and I pull her into a fierce hug. Her cheeks are red and swollen, like someone slapped her hard. I scan her clothes, my heart pounding.
“Did they hurt you?”
She understands what I’m asking and shakes her head. “They just beat me.”
I tuck her head against my chest and turn to Carlo, who’s watching me with the calm confidence of a victorious general. “There’s a cell full of innocent women down in the basement.”
“They’re all free now,” he says firmly. “I personally guarantee they’ll make it home safe.”
“Can I go home too?” Maria sniffles.
Carlo slips a hand into his pocket and nods.
Maria looks at me with hope. I hug her one last time and whisper in her ear, “Take care of yourself, sweetheart. And if anyone ever tells you to hit them, do it.”
She gives a faint, bittersweet smile and pulls away after our goodbye.
Carlo holsters his handgun in his shoulder rig and nods to one of his men.
Maria heads off with him, and Carlo slides into the front seat of the SUV, giving the order to move.
Maxim sits there unmoving and silent as a statue, staring at the floor.
I pull the blanket tighter around me and, in the quiet warmth of the car, drift into a deep sleep and the last thing on my mind before darkness takes me is Aurora’s face.