35. Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
EMMA EASTON
The entire house erupts into motion the second Nico shouts from upstairs.
Rafe is already moving, shoving Adela behind him while he reaches for another magazine with blood-slick fingers.
He hands her a gun, and she loads it expertly.
Across the basement, Micah grabs Heather’s hand and pulls her tight against his side as Kieran’s footsteps thunder overhead.
And beside me, Jude goes terrifyingly still. He’s not frozen…he’s focused. His hazel eyes sharpen beneath dark strands of damp hair as he turns toward the basement stairs like he’s calculating every possible exit, and every weapon between us and freedom.
Alexei laughs weakly from where he hangs chained against the wall, blood dripping from his mouth. “You should run,” he rasps. “Vlad will leash you, and I’ll put you down like the fucking dog you are. Only death awaits you, now.”
Jude crosses the room in two strides and punches him hard enough to snap his head sideways against the concrete. “I’m not done with you yet,” he says coldly. Then he grabs the side of Alexei’s jaw and slams the back of his skull into the wall with brutal force. Alexei’s body goes limp.
The key disappears into Jude’s pocket.
“Move,” Rafe snaps. Everything happens at once after that.
We rush upstairs to see the house above us dimly lit, filled with the sound of distant shouts from outside. Snow blows through the shattered front windows near the foyer, icy wind draining the house’s warmth, while headlights flash across the walls from outside.
The moment we hit the main floor, gunfire explodes. The sound is deafening.
Glass explodes beside us as bullets rip through the front windows, spraying shards across the hardwood floors. Heather screams while Micah shoves her down behind the overturned couch, returning fire almost instantly.
“Back entrance!” Kieran yells.
Rafe grabs Adela’s wrist and drags her low across the kitchen while Nico fires toward the front of the house. Somewhere outside, men are shouting in Russian over the sharp crack of rifles.
Jude catches my arm before I can lose him in the chaos. “Stay with me.” His voice is rough, blood still streaked across his jaw from Alexei’s punch.
I nod immediately.
We move fast through the kitchen hallway toward the rear exit while bullets hammer into the walls around us hard enough to shatter framed pictures. All I can smell is gunsmoke. Then someone bursts through the back door.
Jude fires first, dropping the man instantly.
Another comes behind him, dressed in all black, and Rafe shoots him directly through the throat before he can raise his weapon. Blood sprays across the doorway.
“Outside,” Rafe barks.
The freezing air hits us the second we spill into the backyard. Snow crunches beneath our shoes while floodlights from the approaching SUVs carve through the darkness beyond the trees.
There are too many of them. At least two vehicles are packed with men.
“Split up!” Nico shouts from somewhere behind us. “Move!”
Gunfire erupts again.
The woods explode with noise as bullets tear through branches overhead, bark splintering apart around us. Jude fires beside me while backing us toward the line of parked SUVs near the side of the property, his body constantly shifting to stay between me and the gunfire.
I barely register Adriana grabbing my wrist. “Emma!” she shouts.
I turn just in time to see Heather stumbling through the snow beside Adriana, terror written all over her face as gunfire erupts somewhere behind us.
Then I see the man aiming at her.
No.
“Heather!” Micah shouts. He moves before anyone else can react, slamming into her and throwing her down into the snow just as the gun goes off.
The shot cracks through the night, and Micah jerks hard.
Heather lands several feet away with a cry as Micah staggers backward near the SUV. For a second, he somehow stays standing, his weapon already raised despite the blood suddenly pouring through his shirt.
And then he fires.
The man who shot him drops instantly. Only after that does Micah finally collapse against the side of the vehicle.
The sound that leaves Heather doesn’t even sound human.
“No!” She scrambles toward him through the snow, her shoes slipping as she nearly falls again, hands shaking by the time she reaches him.
Blood is already pouring between Micah’s fingers where he clutches his abdomen, soaking through his clothes far too quickly.
Way too much blood.
Heather drops to her knees beside him immediately, pressing both hands against the wound while panic overtakes every inch of her face. “No, no, no, no—Micah—”
Micah winces, but when he looks up at her, something softer flickers through the pain. His hand lifts shakily toward her face.
“Blondie,” he says hoarsely.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she grabs his wrist. “Why did you do that?”
But he brushes snow-damp hair back from her face anyway, his blood staining her skin as his thumb catches against her cheek. “You okay?” he asks quietly.
The question destroys her. She sobs, pressing harder against the wound as blood keeps slipping through her fingers. “You took the bullet for me, you fucking idiot—”
“I’m good,” he grits out through clenched teeth, though his face has already gone pale beneath the blood splattered across it.
“You are not fucking good!” she screams.
Another round of bullets tears into the SUV beside them.
Rafe lunges forward to cover them, firing twice toward the tree line before his body suddenly jolts sideways. The gunshot cracks through the night loud enough to make me flinch as blood bursts down the side of his neck and shoulder, staining the snow beneath him in dark, terrifying streaks.
“Rafe!” Adela screams.
But he doesn’t fall.
The man barely even reacts to being shot. He pivots with frightening precision, raising his weapon one-handed before firing straight into the trees. A body drops somewhere beyond the snowfall.
“Get them in the fucking cars!” he roars.
Everything disintegrates after that.
Kieran and Nico drag Micah upright between them while Heather openly sobs beside them, both of her shaking hands pressed desperately against the blood pouring from his side. It keeps slipping through her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop it.
“We have an hour!” she cries frantically. “Maybe less!”
Gunfire erupts again from somewhere near the gate.
The sound ricochets through the property as another SUV tears around the corner toward us, headlights blazing through the snowstorm like something charging straight out of hell.
Jude turns sharply, firing twice toward the vehicle before another man emerges near the side entrance of the mansion.
And he’s aiming directly at Jude.
My body moves before my brain catches up.
There’s a gun on the ground near my feet, abandoned beside one of the guards sprawled motionless in the snow. I snatch it up instinctively, the metal freezing against my palm as I whirl toward the man raising his weapon.
For one horrible second, time slows. I see the stranger lining up the shot. See Jude turning too late, and my entire world ending if that bullet hits home.
You will not fucking take him from me.
I pull the trigger, the recoil slamming painfully through my arms as the gunshot explodes through my ears. The man jerks backward immediately, collapsing hard into the snow before he can fire.
Silence rushes through my head afterward.
My breathing stops.
The gun hangs limp in my hand as I stare at it, eyes wide, my pulse suddenly roaring so loudly I can barely hear anything else.
I shot him. Oh my god.
I shot him.
Nico puts three more bullets into the man since my aim wasn’t good enough to kill him.
“Emma!” Jude’s voice snaps everything back into focus. He’s already moving toward me, his chest heaving as his gaze darts from me to the body in the snow and back again. Realization dawns upon him. Then his face hardens again as another burst of gunfire erupts nearby.
“Get in the fucking car,” he orders sharply, grabbing my wrist and pulling me backward toward the SUV. His eyes lock onto mine for one intense second. “Right now.”
I nod quickly, still gripping the gun so tightly my fingers ache as he shoves me toward the vehicle and turns back toward the gunfire without hesitation.
Nico and Kieran finally haul Micah into their car, more bullets ricocheting off metal and snow around us.
“Come on!” Adriana is already running toward one of the empty SUVs, dragging Heather along. I sprint after them while Jude and Rafe cover us with gunfire behind our backs.
The world feels unreal. Snow. Blood. Screaming.
The SUV door jerks open beneath my hands, and we practically fall inside. Adriana throws herself into the driver’s seat while Heather climbs into the back, still sobbing about Micah as she smears blood across herself from trying to hold his wound closed.
“I have to help him!” Heather screams.
“You’ll get fucking shot!” I respond, whipping around in the passenger seat. “Kieran and Nico have him.”
The engine roars alive.
Ahead of us, I see Jude’s SUV peel wildly away from the property, fishtailing across the snowy road while gunfire erupts behind it.
And for one terrifying second, Jude leans out the driver’s window and looks back.
Even through the chaos and distance and headlights, our eyes meet. He’s making sure I made it out.
Then Adriana slams on the gas.
We shoot down the road behind them, the SUV sliding hard enough on ice to throw us sideways. Snow blurs past the windows in streaks while Heather curls forward in the backseat, crying so hard she can barely breathe.
“He’s dying,” she keeps repeating shakily. “He’s dying, Emma.”
“No,” I say immediately, twisting toward her. “Heather, listen to me. You know how to help him.”
“But I’m not there—”
“You will be. We will lose these fucking assholes.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
Adriana says nothing. Her knuckles are white against the steering wheel, Erik’s blood still smeared across her hands and arms, while her eyes stay fixed on the winding snowy road ahead.
Then her expression changes. It’s barely noticeable, but I can see it.
Her gaze flicks toward the rearview mirror. Then ahead. Then back again.
My stomach tightens. “What is it?” I ask quietly.
But she doesn’t answer.
My phone rings, and I scramble to answer it.
“Emma?”
Relief floods me instantly, hearing Jude’s voice. “We’re behind you,” I respond.
Behind me, I hear Heather frantically shouting instructions through her phone to Kieran and Nico, while Micah groans. The sound on speaker has me crying.
Rafe’s voice cuts in despite the pain he has to be in. “Two vehicles are on us. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this to get him help.”
Heather screams, the sound like her heart is actually ripping apart. “He’s going to—he’s going to die!”
Adriana’s eyes flick toward me, like she’s thinking. Two black SUVs are closing in behind Jude’s vehicle, separating us.
“What?” I ask, glancing at my phone and realizing that my call dropped.
Adriana suddenly jerks the vehicle hard toward the side of the snowy, forested road, tires skidding before she slams to a stop near the tree line.
“What are you doing?” Heather asks shakily from the backseat.
“Out,” she says.
I blink at her. “What?”
“Get out of the car.”
“Adriana—”
“Now!”
Her voice is so frantic that Heather quickly reaches for the door.
But I stare at her in confusion as snow drifts heavily around us outside, seemingly getting worse. “What are you doing?” I ask again.
Her eyes meet mine, and I can suddenly see it. It’s the face I see reflected in my most troubled patients. Exhaustion, pain, trauma, and a desperate desire to forget it all.
“You need to go into the woods,” she says quietly. “Both of you.”
“No.” My chest tightens. “No, we’re staying together—”
“We can’t.” The words come out firmer this time.
Heather stumbles out first, crying openly now as snow immediately swallows her shoes near the roadside. I grab Adriana’s arm before she can pull away.
“Adriana, what the hell?”
For a second, something so painfully human flickers across her face. Then she reaches up and squeezes my hand. “Take care of him,” she whispers. “Please.”
My stomach drops. “Adriana—”
But she’s already shoving me toward the open door.
I stumble out into the freezing snow just as the SUV door slams shut again. And then she speeds away into the night.