Chapter 18 #2
“Noted.” I quickly grabbed the black leggings and T-shirt from the shopping bag.
Luka hadn’t been able to find a bra for me, and I wasn’t about to squeeze back into the shapewear I’d had on earlier.
I stepped into the slip-on canvas loafers and tested the fit.
They weren’t the most comfortable pair of shoes I’d ever worn, but they would do.
The toe of my shoe kicked something as I turned to ask Luka if he was ready to go. It felt heavy, and I bent down to look for it. I found it under the covers that had been kicked off the bed during Luka’s struggle with our assailant.
“What’s that?” Luka finished dressing. “Did he drop something?”
“He must have. It’s not ours.” I gave the cardboard box a little shake. We both heard the sound of metal on metal, and I froze. “That sounds ominous.”
“Be careful,” he urged, rushing to my side.
Cautiously, as if a snake was about to jump out and bite me, I opened the box and peeled away the tissue paper to reveal a tidy pile of rifle cartridges. My terrified gaze snapped to Luka’s. Neither of us spoke as the reality settled heavily on our shoulders.
I turned my attention back to the box and its contents. The cartridges were easily identifiable, and I listed off the rifles that were chambered for the rounds. “These are long-range sniper rifle cartridges. 300 Norma. Sako. Mjolnir. MK22.”
“You know your ammunition.” Luka sounded both surprised and impressed.
“Like you said,” I reminded him. “I’m from Texas. Brett always took me hunting with him when I was younger. We had some of our best times in a hunting blind.”
“Away from your mother?” he guessed dryly.
“Yes.” I reached in and pulled out one of the cartridges. I moved further into the bathroom light and spun the cartridge in my fingers. I discovered a name neatly engraved in the metal. ANA DUSHKU. “They’re labeled.”
He took it from me and checked for himself. “Your mother?”
One by one, I picked each cartridge from the box and read the names before handing them to him. “My brother. My sister. Rina. Drita. Kristofor. Zec. Besian. Marley. Arben. Aston.”
“I suppose he intended to leave these with our dead bodies as a message to our families.”
I stared at the gleaming metal ammunition, their sharp points chilling me right to the bone. “Do you still think Zec was involved? Or my mom? Their names are on the cartridges.”
“It could be a feint so they aren’t suspected.” Luka held the cartridge engraved with Zec’s name between his fingers and grimaced. “He was in charge of security at the wedding. He would have been able to sneak a bomb into the venue.”
“But working with the Raffaelli family? After all this time? Why wouldn’t he have just killed you when you were younger and more vulnerable?”
Luka eyed the cartridge. “I’ve never been more vulnerable than I am right now.”
Taken aback by his candor, I asked, “That bad?”
“I’ve fucked up so much,” he confessed on a ragged breath. “Maybe they’re finally sick of my shit.”
He flinched when I lifted my hand close to his face. I held still, letting him see that I wasn’t going to attack him in such a wounded, raw moment.
When he relaxed, I placed my palm against his bearded cheek in a comforting, soothing way. As much as I wanted to hate him for all he’d done to ruin my family, I could see now that we were both victims. “So, Luka, what are we going to do?”
He reacted with shock. “We?”
“They tried to kill both of us. Twice,” I added.
“Yes, they did.”
“That makes us a team, I guess.”
“Does it?”
I let my hand fall from his face and grasped his hand. With a sober nod, I said, “For better or worse, we’re in this together now.”
“Then maybe you should be the one who decides what we’re going to do. I’ve done nothing but fuck things up.”
I swallowed nervously. There was one thing I could do. One thing I probably should have done last night, as soon as that bomb exploded.
“Give me the other burner phone you bought.”
He handed it over. “Who are you going to call?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s a number I was given by my stepdad. He told me to call it if I got into trouble.”
Luka looked uncomfortable, but whatever protest he might have had, died as soon as the assailant on the floor began to make noise around the gag. He gave me a gentle shove toward the door. “You’ll have to call while we’re running.”
As I followed him, I had a bad feeling we were in for the longest run of our lives. I couldn’t have been more right—or wrong.
When Luka opened the hotel room door, another masked man rushed him. Luka barely had time to react as he was slammed backward and into me. I stumbled and fell, my foot caught in a jumble of feet and legs as I went down hard on my ass.
I yanked my legs back to get free of the two men fighting above me and scooted away on my butt.
I bumped into the man we’d subdued earlier.
He was awake now, thrashing against his bonds.
I checked to make sure he wasn’t going to get free and become a problem.
Luka’s knots were tight, and there was little chance of this man getting loose.
I scrambled to my feet, desperate to help.
The Makarov I’d tucked into the waistband of my leggings had fallen out, and I glanced around the shadowy room to find it.
I spotted it under the small table. I went for it, but Luka slammed into me as he swung the second attacker around with two handfuls of the man’s shirt.
I hissed as my hip banged into the edge of the table. I lost my balance and knocked over a chair as I fell. Luka and the attacker tripped over my legs and crashed into the sliding door that led to the balcony. The glass cracked but didn’t shatter.
They kicked and grappled, hands clawing at each other. When they slammed into the door a second time, the glass fractured even more. I held my breath, waiting for them to fall through and onto the balcony.
The second attacker got the upper hand and punched Luka right in the gut. He doubled over in agony and stumbled sideways. He couldn’t breathe, not after a hit like that. He was vulnerable, and our assailant knew it.
I saw the attacker reach for something on his hip. A knife? A gun? I couldn’t tell. It was too dark in the room, the shadows too deep.
I reacted on instinct. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
I rushed the attacker like a linebacker. I caught him with my shoulder, dipping my head and driving my full weight into his torso. He had no chance to stay on his feet. He went flying backwards with me as the force of my attack sent us hurtling through the door.
The glass exploded like a gunshot. I felt the shards flying around us, cutting into my arms and hands. Somehow, I managed not to gash open a vein as we stumbled onto the balcony.
I let go of him, not wanting to get smashed into the railing. His back hit the metal, and he made a shocked, guttural sound. He reached for me, trying to snatch hold of my bleeding arm. He caught hold of my shirt, and I shoved him, desperate to tear myself free.
Metal snapped and yawed. He shouted in panic. The railing had broken free from the balcony. He was falling—and taking me with him.
“Elona!” Luka fisted my shirt in one hand and slung his forearm around my throat, yanking me away to safety.
It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, the man was there, arms flailing as he gasped. The next, he was gone, screaming as he fell.
Luka’s strong arms embraced me, hauling me against his chest. He pressed his face against my neck, and I felt the ghost of his lips on my skin. He shuddered with apparent relief and kissed my cheek and temple. “Jesus, I thought you were going over with him.”
I couldn’t make my tongue work. Saturated with adrenaline, overcome with terror, I clung to him. I pushed my forehead into his chin, seeking comfort and pressure that he immediately gave. My heart raced, and I shuddered violently.
“We have to go.” Luka kissed my cheek again. “Elona. Now.”
Stunned and overwhelmed, I could only nod shakily. He took my hand, and we spun toward the exit.
But we didn’t make it one single foot before we realized it was too late.
Four masked men in the same black outfits stood in the room with us. Outnumbered and with nowhere to go, I clung to Luka’s hand. He stepped in front of me, shielding me, even if only for a moment, from the inevitable deaths that awaited us.
I couldn’t see around Luka, but I heard something fire. Not a gun. Something else.
A taser, I realized a moment later. Luka stiffened and dropped to the floor where he flopped with the jolts of electricity burning through him. Panicked, I took a step backward, but the crunch of glass under my shoes forced me to stop.
I raised both hands, desperate to protect myself as the four men advanced on me. I saw one of them lift his hand, showing off his taser, and then a heartbeat later, I was writhing on the floor in absolute fiery agony alongside Luka.
This is it.
This is how we die.