Chapter 25 Katya
KATYA
Iwake to the sound of raised voices outside.
At first, I think I'm dreaming.
But then I hear the sharp crack of gunfire, and my eyes snap open.
I throw off the blanket and scramble to the window, pressing myself against the wall as I peer through the glass.
Two cars have pulled up to the front of the safehouse, doors thrown open.
Men are spilling out with weapons in their hands.
I count six, maybe seven.
They're moving fast, spreading out across the yard, using the trees for cover.
Behind them, more headlights cut through the darkness and I know these half dozen aren't alone.
Alarms blare inside the safehouse.
Vetrov guards rush to the windows, returning fire.
Bullets punch through the glass, and I drop to the floor, my heart hammering in my chest.
I hear Dimitri's voice from somewhere in the house, barking orders, and then his footsteps pounding down the hallway.
The door to my room slams open.
He's there, gun in hand, his face dark with fury.
"Get up," he snaps.
"Now."
I scramble to my feet, and he grabs my arm, dragging me out of the room.
Gunfire is everywhere now, a constant roar that makes my ears ring.
Plaster explodes from the walls as bullets tear through the safehouse.
Glass shatters, raining down around us.
"How did they find us?"
I shout over the noise.
"I don't know."
He pulls me down the hallway, staying low.
"But we need to move. Now."
We reach the main room, where two of his men are crouched behind overturned furniture, firing through the broken windows.
One of them turns, his face streaked with sweat and blood.
"They're coming from the south side too," he shouts.
"At least four more."
Dimitri curses, pulling me toward the back of the house.
"Stay behind me. Don't move unless I tell you to."
He shoves me into the corner behind a heavy bookshelf, then positions himself in front of me.
I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand grips the gun.
He's ready to kill anyone who gets close and I'm trembling from the fear and adrenaline.
I'm not even wearing shoes.
The gunfire intensifies.
I hear shouting from outside, men coordinating their attack, then a crash.
The side door splinters open, and a man bursts through, gun raised.
He scans the room, his eyes locking on me.
Dimitri's attention is on the men shooting at us from the backyard.
The man raises his weapon, and I know I have seconds before he pulls the trigger.
I reach for the pistol in Dimitri's waistband without thinking.
My hands are shaking, but I grip it the way he taught me without thinking and raise it, lining up the sights, and squeeze the trigger.
The shot rings out.
The man staggers backward a few steps, and blood blooms across his chest.
He drops to the floor in convulsions.
I stare at him, the gun still raised and in total shock.
My body is shaking worse than the dead man who had a fit of seizure as he died while the sickening realization that I've shot someone and killed them sinks into me.
Dimitri turns, eyes wide in shock, and pushes me back against the wall.
"Stay down!" he shouts at me, but he doesn't take the gun, and I'm not sure what to do with it.
I killed someone.
I shot him in the fucking chest and he's bleeding out right in front of me and I can't take my eyes off of him.
I drop behind the bookshelf, pressing myself against the wall.
My knees have given out the same way my consciousness has just shrunk.
I can't stop the shaking.
It's like it comes from inside my core where nerves are firing too rapidly to make sense.
The gun clatters to the floor as more shots erupt and I start sobbing.
My hands cover my ears instinctively as I rock, trying to comfort myself and block it out but the trauma is having its effect anyway.
The assault feels endless.
Bullets tear through the walls, shredding furniture and sending debris flying.
I keep my head down, my hands over my ears, trying to block out the noise.
But I can't block out the fear.
The knowledge that at any moment, one of those bullets could find me.
Then, suddenly, the gunfire slows.
I hear Dimitri shouting orders, and his men surge forward, pushing toward the broken door.
Then I hear the sound of boots on the porch.
More shots.
Then silence.
I lift my head cautiously, peering around the edge of the bookshelf.
Dimitri is standing near the door, gun still raised, his chest heaving.
Two of his men are beside him, both alive, both breathing hard.
From where I am, I can see bodies on the ground outside, and I'm grateful the men block most of that sight from me.
Dimitri turns, his eyes finding me immediately.
"Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, my voice caught in my throat.
But just because I don’t have a bullet in my flesh doesn't mean I'm okay.
He crosses the room quickly and pulls me up to my feet but my knees are still stubbornly weak.
His hands are on my face, checking for injuries.
"You're bleeding."
I reach up, feeling the warm trickle on my cheek but I know it's not my blood.
It's horrifying, but I swallow down that emotion to the numb void of my gut.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
His voice is a feral growl.
"You were supposed to stay behind cover."
"I did."
I pull away from him, my hands still shaking.
He pulls me against himself, his arms wrapping around me.
I feel his heart pounding against my cheek, his breath hot against my hair.
"Katya," he whispers gruffly.
"I… I killed him…"
"You did what you had to do," he says quietly.
"Okay. It was you or him. And you're alive."
I want to believe him.
But when I close my eyes, all I see is the man falling, the blood spreading across his chest.
I did that.
I ended his life.
One of Dimitri's men calls from the doorway.
"They're retreating. Two cars heading back toward the city."
Dimitri releases me, moving to the window.
I follow, looking out at the yard.
Two cars are speeding away, taillights disappearing down the lane.
But now that they know we're here, I know we're not safe.
"How many did we lose?" Dimitri asks.
"None. Two injuries, but they'll survive."
Dimitri nods, his jaw tight.
"Secure the perimeter. I want eyes on every approach. If they come back, I want to know before they get within a kilometer of this place."
The man nods and disappears.
Dimitri turns back to me with a dark expression.
"We need to get you out of here. This safehouse is compromised. We need to move."
"Where?" I ask, letting him pull me down the hallway.
I avoid the broken glass as we walk to the bedroom.
"I don't know yet."
He dials a number, pressing the phone to his ear.
"But we'll figure it out."
I watch him pace the room, speaking in hushed tones to whoever is on the other end while I dress quickly and find my shoes.
My body is still buzzing with adrenaline, my mind racing.
This is what I signed up for when I told him I would stand with him but living with the reality of it is far more difficult than confessing my loyalty to it.
I don’t know if I’m ready for this.
I killed someone.
Dimitri ends the call and turns to face me.
"Rolan's sending a convoy. They'll be here in twenty minutes. We pack what we can and we leave."
"Where are we going?"
"To the city. To the estate."
He moves closer, his eyes searching mine.
"You need to meet your cousin Artemy. He's the only living male Morozov. If you're going to claim your name, you need his support."
My stomach twists.
"But he's probably been leading the family. What if he doesn’t want me?"
"Then we're on our own." Dimitri's voice is flat.
"But he will. He has to. You're the last of Lyovik's bloodline. The rest of the family will know that means you’re the heir and that the pact remains. Even if they don't give you leadership of the family. They’ll keep the pact to save face, just the way Rolan is."
I nod, but the fear doesn't ease.
I have no clue what's going to happen or how to process what I just did.
"I killed that man," I say quietly.
"I shot him, and I watched him die."
Dimitri steps closer, his hand cupping my jaw.
"You defended yourself, baby."
It's the first time I think I've heard him say that to me.
"You had no choice. You're not a murderer, okay?"
"It doesn't feel like it."
"It is."
His thumb brushes across my cheek, wiping away the blood.
"You did what you had to do. And you'll do it again if you have to."
With one small kiss pressed to my lips I'm feeling slightly better.
"Go pack," Dimitri says, releasing me.
I nod and turn toward the closet and grab my few belongings, shoving them into a bag.
My hands are still shaking.
I can't stop seeing the man's face.
The way his eyes widened when the bullet hit.
The way he fell.
I don't know how long I'm going to think of that but I'm positive I'm going to have nightmares about it.
When I return to the main room, Dimitri is standing by the window, speaking with one of his men.
He glances at me, then nods toward the door.
"Convoy's here. Let's go."
We step outside into the cold air.
The yard's a war zone.
Bodies lie in the snow.
A burning car has collapsed in on itself, flames still flickering.
Dimitri's men are loading supplies into the back of two black SUVs, moving quickly and efficiently.
Dimitri guides me to the first vehicle, opening the door.
I climb inside, sliding across the seat.
He follows, sitting beside me.
The door slams shut, and the driver starts the engine.
As we pull away from the safehouse, I look back through the rear window.
The building is dark now, windows shattered, walls pocked with bullet holes.
My world feels like it's been turned upside down and now it's crushing me.
I feel sick and scared of what it will be like when I tell Artemy—my supposed cousin—that I think I'm Ekaterina.
I'm terrified that this is what my life will be like.
Since I've known Dimitri he's had nothing but trouble and stress and even bloodshed.
And that's not how I envisioned my life.
Maybe that's why my mother kept me from it.
She was protecting me from this.
Not from the deceitful men or the thievery and crime.
It was the bloodshed and violence.
I stare out the window while Dimitri holds my hand with one of his and flicks through messages on his phone with the other.
He's used to this.
He was raised in a world of retribution and attack and I was raised in what feels like luxury now.
At the time I had no clue how bad or scary life could be.
And I hated my mother for running and moving.
Now I wish I could’ve just stayed with her and stayed hidden from all of this.
Hindsight is always 20/20.
I was stubborn and angry and prideful and I wish to god I could go back and undo that.
I want to go home.
And I want to feel safe again.