Chapter 21
LIESL
Two days later, I'm dealing with another attack on one of our warehouses when a call from Viktor comes through.
I'm standing over a man who used to work for the Volkov family—used to, because after tonight he won't be working for anyone—when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
The man is tied to a chair, his face already swelling from the questions I've been asking.
He's been giving me information about the coordination between Alexander Baumann and my enemies.
I pull out the phone, see Viktor's name, and answer immediately. "What."
"The safe house is under attack." His voice is tight with urgency. "At least a dozen. Maybe more. They came prepared, pakhan. This wasn't opportunistic. They knew exactly where to hit."
Liesl. She's there. Alone except for the guards I left to protect her. The thought sends ice through my veins, followed immediately by white-hot rage. I look at the man in the chair, at the blood dripping from his split lip, and make a decision.
"I'm coming," I tell Viktor. "Hold the perimeter. Don't let anyone through."
"We're trying, but—"
"Hold it." I end the call and turn to the two men standing behind me. "Finish this. Make it quick. Then clean up and get back to the estate."
They nod, understanding what I'm not saying. The man in the chair starts to protest, starts to beg, but I'm already walking away. His voice cuts off with a wet, choking sound as one of my men steps forward with a knife.
I don't look back.
The drive to the safe house is too far for my comfort. I push the car hard through dark roads, my mind racing faster than the engine. Viktor's words loop through my head: They knew exactly where to hit.
Someone talked. Someone in my organization gave up the location. Or Alexander Baumann has better intelligence than I thought. Either option is unacceptable. But right now, the only thing that matters is getting to her.
I'm still wearing the clothes from the warehouse interrogation—dark shirt, dark pants, both spattered with blood that isn't mine.
My knuckles are split and raw. There's blood under my fingernails and blood on my hands that I haven't had time to wash away.
I look like exactly what I am: a man who deals in violence.
And I'm about to deal in more of it.
The safe house comes into view through the trees, and I can see immediately that Viktor wasn't exaggerating.
Muzzle flashes light up the darkness, concentrated around three different points of the perimeter.
The attackers are trying to breach from multiple angles simultaneously, forcing my men to spread thin to cover all approaches.
It's a smart strategy, and it's coordination that takes planning and resources.
I park the car a hundred yards out and approach on foot, moving through the trees with my gun drawn.
The sounds of the firefight grow louder—sharp cracks of gunfire, shouted commands in Russian, the occasional scream when a bullet finds its target.
I can smell gunpowder and pine sap, feel the adrenaline singing through my veins.
I reach the eastern perimeter where three of my men are pinned down behind a stone wall, returning fire at attackers positioned in the tree line. One of my men has blood streaming down his face from a head wound. He's still firing but he's moving slower than he should be.
"What's going on?" I bark as I drop into cover beside them.
The closest man jerks his head toward me, eyes widening when he sees me. "Pakhan. We've got at least four on this side, maybe more. They're well-armed. We've taken down two but they keep coming."
"The house?"
"Secure so far. Viktor's inside with the girl. But if they breach—"
"They won't." I lean around the wall and fire three shots in rapid succession.
One of the attackers drops, clutching his shoulder.
The others scatter, seeking better cover.
I pull out my phone and call Viktor. He answers on the first ring.
"I'm here," I tell him. "Eastern perimeter. What's your situation?"
"Holding." His voice is steady despite the gunfire I can hear in the background. "They tried the front entrance twice. We pushed them back both times. But they're testing the windows now. If they get through—"
"Get her ready to move. We're getting out of here"
"Understood."
I end the call and turn to the man next to me. "I need you to draw their fire. Make them think we're preparing a counterassault from this position. Give me two minutes, then fall back to the vehicles."
He nods, understanding immediately. "Where will you be?"
"Ending this."
I move before he can respond, slipping back into the trees and circling around toward the attackers' position.
They're focused on the stone wall, on the men returning fire from behind it.
They're not watching their flank. It makes me think these aren't Volkov's best men.
These are expendable, meant to test our defenses and see how we respond. Which means there will be more coming.
All the more reason to get Liesl out of here now.
I come up behind the first attacker from the side, moving silently through the underbrush.
He's crouched behind a thick pine tree, rifle raised, completely focused on the stone wall.
I put two bullets in his head before he even knows I'm there.
The suppressor on my gun keeps the shots quiet enough that his companions don't immediately notice.
The second man is ten feet away, partially hidden behind a fallen log. He turns when the first man drops, sees me, and starts to raise his weapon. I'm faster. Three shots to center mass. He goes down hard, his rifle clattering against the log.
Now the others know I'm here.
Gunfire erupts from my left, bullets tearing through the trees around me.
I drop and roll, coming up behind a boulder as bark explodes from the trunk where my head was a second ago.
Two more attackers, both with automatic weapons, firing in controlled bursts.
I wait for a pause in their fire, then lean out and return it.
My shots are precise. I don't waste bullets.
The first man takes one in the throat and goes down gurgling.
The second manages to duck back behind cover, but I've marked his position.
I move to one side, using the trees for cover and circling around to get a better angle.
He fires blindly in my direction, spraying bullets that come nowhere close as he starts to panic.
He knows he's alone now, knows his team is dead or dying, and he's losing his nerve.
I come around a thick oak and find him trying to retreat, backing away while still firing.
His magazine runs dry. He fumbles for a reload, hands shaking.
I shoot him twice in the chest. He drops the rifle and falls backward, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
The eastern perimeter is clear.
I move quickly back toward the house, checking the other positions as I go. The western perimeter is still a problem—I can hear sustained gunfire from that direction—but the front entrance has gone quiet. Either Viktor's men pushed them back or they're regrouping for another attempt.
I reach the house through the back entrance, stepping over the body of an attacker who made it this far before one of my men stopped him.
The door is riddled with bullet holes but still intact.
I push through into the kitchen, where two of my men are positioned at the windows, weapons trained on the tree line. "Where's Viktor?" I bark.
One of them jerks his head toward the stairs. "Upstairs with the girl."
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding harder than it did during the firefight.
The hallway is dark except for a sliver of light coming from under one of the doors.
I head toward it,and the door opens before I reach it.
Viktor steps out, gun in hand, then lowers it when he sees me. "Pakhan."
"Is she hurt?"
"No. Scared, but unharmed." He glances back into the room. "I told her we're leaving. She's getting her things."
"We don't have time for things. We leave now."
"Understood." He steps aside to let me pass.
I push into the room and find Liesl standing by the bed, clutching her bag to her chest. Her eyes are wide, her face pale, but she's not crying. She looks at me and I see the fear there, but also relief. Like she knew I would come.
Like she trusted I would come.
"Andrei." My name is barely a whisper.
I cross the room in three strides and pull her against me, one hand fisting in her hair, the other wrapping around her waist. She's shaking. I can feel the tremors running through her body.
"You're okay," I tell her firmly. "You're okay, ptitsa."
She nods against my chest, her fingers clutching at my shirt. Then she pulls back slightly, her eyes traveling over me, and I see the moment she registers the blood. Her breath catches. "You're hurt—"
"Not mine." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "We need to go. Now. Can you do that?"
Another nod, more firm this time. "Yes."
"Good girl." I release her and turn to Viktor. "Clear path to the vehicles?"
"Should be. Western perimeter is still engaged but we can go out the back."
"Then let's move."
We go down the stairs quickly, Viktor leading and me bringing up the rear with Liesl between us.
The two men in the kitchen fall in behind us as we exit through the back door.
The night air is cool and sharp, carrying the smell of gunpowder and blood.
Gunfire still echoes from the western side of the house, but it sounds more sporadic now.
Either my men are winning or the attackers are retreating.
Either way, we're not staying to find out.