Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kirill
I’ve learned to trust my instincts. Not because they’re always right. They’re not.
But over the years, I’ve noticed a pattern. Every now and then, I wake up with this feeling buried deep in my gut. A quiet sense that something isn’t right. Like the air itself is warning me.
Sometimes the day passes without incident, and I convince myself I imagined it.
Other times…
Those are the days people die.
I’ve had that feeling since the moment I opened my eyes this morning.
It’s followed me through breakfast, through packing, through every minute we’ve spent getting ready to leave England.
I can’t shake it. I don’t know if today’s another false alarm or if something is waiting for us around the corner.
Either way, my guard stays up.
Our bags are already packed by the front door when Milana walks into the bedroom carrying the last of her things.
She stops the moment she sees me. “What’s wrong?”
I look up. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You’ve had that look on your face all morning.”
I force a small smile. “It’s nothing.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “You sure?”
I nod. “Did you get everything?”
She glances around the room one last time. “I think so.”
“Chargers? Laptop? Passport?”
She laughs softly. “Yes, Dad.”
I gently spank her ass. “Seriously?”
She laughs and slips her hand into mine. “I’ve got everything.”
I glance at my watch. “We should get going. The pilot called a few minutes ago. The jet’s ready for departure.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I pick up our bags and take one last look around the suite, before opening the door and wait for Milana to step through first.
By the time we reach the private airstrip, my unease has worsened.
The jet sits on the tarmac, its engines still quiet as the ground crew finishes the last of their preparations.
The pilot spots us and walks over. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Captain.”
He gives me a reassuring smile.
“She’s ready to go. We completed the pre-flight inspection, fueled her up, and filed the flight plan. Weather is clear all the way to New York.”
I look past him at the jet. Something still doesn’t feel right.
“Sure you’ve checked everything?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everything?”
He nods.
“The exterior inspection, control surfaces, hydraulics, landing gear, fuel levels, oil pressure, avionics, flight controls, engines. We ran through the entire checklist.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I keep staring at the aircraft. The feeling in my gut only grows heavier.
“Captain…”
He follows my gaze.
“…run it again.”
His smile disappears. “Sir?”
“The inspection.”
“We already completed it.”
“I know.”
“And my crew went over it twice before your arrival.”
“I heard you.”
He hesitates.
“We’re cutting it close for our departure slot. If we don’t push back soon, Air Traffic Control may move us to the next window.”
“I don’t care.”
He studies me for a second.
“Run it again.”
Milana steps closer. “Kirill. If the captain says they’ve checked everything…” She slips her hand into mine. “…then they’ve checked everything.”
I wish I believed that.
“What’s going on?” she asks softly. “Do you think something’s wrong?”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Because I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know if anything is wrong.
“I don’t know,” I admit quietly.
As the captain walks away, Milana squeezes my hand.
Her phone starts ringing. She glances at the screen and smiles. “It’s Sarah.”
I nod toward the edge of the tarmac. “Go ahead.”
She walks a short distance away, answering the call with a bright, “Hey!”
I stay close enough to keep her in sight, far enough to give her a little privacy.
I watch her laugh at something Sarah says. Then… a deafening blast tears through the air behind me.
The ground shakes beneath my feet as a wall of heat slams into my back, followed by a violent shockwave that hurls me forward.
I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring every bone in my body. A loud static roar fills my ears, drowning out everything else.
Smoke and debris rain down around me as I try to push myself up, coughing, head spinning.
“Milana!” I shout, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
I stagger to my feet, the world tilting wildly for a few seconds before I regain my balance. My ears are ringing, vision blurry from the smoke.
“Milana!”
I hear her then, faint but there, calling my name through the static. “Kirill!”
I stumble toward the sound, heart pounding. She’s on the ground a few yards away, covered in soot and dust, just like me. I drop to my knees beside her, ignoring the pain in my joints, hands moving over her body, checking for injuries.
“Are you okay?” I ask, voice rough. “Are you hurt?”
She coughs, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”
I help her up, relief flooding through me when I see she’s not bleeding. No obvious breaks. Just bruises. We turn toward the airstrip, and my stomach drops.
The jet. Our jet, is engulfed in flames. What’s left of it is a burning wreck, black smoke billowing into the sky.
I know immediately. We’re in trouble.
I grab her hand. “We need to get out of here. Fast.”
She nods, still breathing hard. “Okay.”
I quickly check her again. “Can you walk? Are you hurt anywhere?”
She winces but shakes her head. “My body hurts, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”
I don’t waste another second. I pull her with me, and we start running away from the wreckage, heading toward the far side of the private airstrip.
The area is mostly open tarmac with a few smaller hangars and maintenance buildings scattered around. Beyond that, there’s a chain-link fence and then dense woods that border the property.
We sprint toward the nearest hangar, staying low, using whatever cover we can find, parked service vehicles, equipment crates.
My hand stays locked with hers the entire time. I can feel her pulse racing against my palm, but she keeps up.
The static in my ears is slowly fading, replaced by the sound of our breathing and footsteps. Sirens are already wailing in the distance. The emergency responders will be here soon. We need to disappear before they do.
After running for what feels like forever, we finally reach the main road. I flag down a taxi, waving my arms frantically. It takes a couple of tries before one finally stops.
The driver looks at us, covered in soot, disheveled, breathing hard, but I don’t give him time to question it. I shove Milana into the back seat and climb in after her.
“Heathrow Airport,” I tell the driver. “Fast.”
“But–” the taxi driver tries to speak. Heathrow is hours away.
“Now!” I shout, throwing my phone out of the window and telling her to do the same.
Milana looks at me, eyes wide with fear. I can see the questions there, the panic she’s trying to hold back, but she obeys.
I want so badly to tell her everything is going to be alright. I want to pull her into my arms and promise her I’ll keep her safe.
But right now, I don’t even know who’s behind the explosion. Whoever it was wanted us dead. And they almost succeeded. Thank god I always have my burner phone on me.
When we arrive at Heathrow, I pay the driver quickly and take Milana’s hand, pulling her with me into the terminal.
We head straight into one of the shops. “Grab some clothes to change into,” I tell her. The ones we’re wearing are ruined.
She looks at me, still shaken. “What are we going to do?”
“Just change. We need to blend in.”
She picks out a simple dress and heads to the changing room. While she’s in there, I grab a plain shirt and a baseball cap for myself. I change quickly in the open area, keeping my eyes on everything around us.
After changing, I pull out my burner phone and call Artyom. He answers with a groggy, irritated voice.
“What?”
I keep my voice low. “It’s me. There was an explosion at the airstrip. Your jet blew up.”
He’s immediately alert. “How is my sister? Is she hurt?”
“She’s fine. Shaken, but not injured. We’re at Heathrow now.”
He’s quiet for a second. “I will have another jet sent to you.”
“We don't have much time, we need to get out of here. I’m going to find a way to get us on a commercial flight undetected. Once we land, I’ll let you know.”
“That’s risky. Using our names—”
“It's the safest option. We can't sit around waiting for you to send a jet." I cut in. “I’ll handle it. I’ll get her home safe.”
“You better,” he says, voice hard. “Protect her with your life.”
“I don’t need to be told twice. That’s my priority.”
I end the call just as Milana steps out of the changing room. We both head to the register. I pay for the clothes quickly.
As we step out of the clothing store, I finally get a proper look at Milana.
There are still streaks of soot along her jaw and hairline. Smudges of ash cling to her arms.
“We need to clean up,” I say quietly. “Come on.”
I lead her toward the restrooms, keeping her close, my eyes scanning every person we pass. The men’s and women’s rooms are side by side.
Thankfully, both are empty. I pull her into the men’s room with me, locking the door behind us.
We move fast. I grab paper towels, wetting them at the sink, and gently wipe the soot from her face. She does the same for me, her hands trembling slightly as she cleans the grime from my jaw and forehead.
When we’re done, we both look more like normal travelers, disheveled, but not like we just survived an explosion.
She looks up at me, eyes wide with fear. “I’m scared.”
I cup her face with both hands, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“It’s okay to be scared. But right now, you can’t operate on fear. You have to be brave. I’m going to get us out of this. I promise. But I need you to work with me. Can you do that?”
She takes a shaky breath and nods. “Yes.”
“Good.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Now we’re going to head back out there and act like nothing is wrong. We’re not going to draw attention to ourselves. I’ll find us tickets to get out of here and back to New York.”
She nods again. “Okay.”
I lean in and kiss her briefly on the lips. Then I take her hand, lacing our fingers together, and we step out of the restroom.
The terminal is busy, people rushing to gates, announcements blaring overhead. I keep my grip on her hand firm but natural, scanning the crowd as we walk.
I head toward the ticket counters, mind already working on the next steps. We need to get out of England fast. And we need to do it without leaving a trail.