Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Kirill
“Arms up,” the masked man barks.
At any other time I would pistol whip someone who spoke to me like that, but this time, I keep my mouth shut and put my arms out.
The man frisks me, and as I predicted he would, he finds the gun I have holstered at my back.
He snickers as he pulls it out of its holster and waves it in front of my face.
“You really didn’t think I was going to find this?” he asks.
“Desperate men do desperate things,” I reply.
He chortles, and pockets my gun before I continue scanning the front room of Yulian’s house.
It’s dark and empty, but there’s a light shining from the hall that leads to the kitchen, and I suspect that’s where I’ll face Yulian and whoever was actually behind all of this.
I glance back the staircase, and my heart jumps.
Is that where he has my Annika? Or the basement?
I know the house has one, Edik pulled the blueprints.
I know where every single room is. I know that there’s another staircase at the back of the house next to the kitchen.
I know that somewhere, among these boards and plaster, is my wife.
Hold on, baby, I think.
“Don’t even think about it,” the masked man warns, catching my eyes on the stairs. “One wrong move and everything will go to shit.”
I snap my eyes forward and swallow the coppery taste of lethal rage. I have to contain it. For now.
“Do I check out?” I ask him calmly.
He slowly looks over me again, as if unsure. Then he nods as he pulls my gun from his pocket and points it at me. The masked prick grabs my arm and shoves me in front of him, pressing the barrel to my back as he snarls, “Walk.”
I take casual steps toward the hall Edik and I walked down only a couple weeks ago, and once more glance at the family picture at the wall.
At the picture of a man that would do anything for his family.
A man that is now holding his own daughter captive.
Whether he was forced to do so or not, I suddenly realize I don’t care. I want to kick his ass anyways.
“You look like shit,” I tell Yulian as I enter the kitchen.
In truth I’m being polite with the insult.
He actually looks worse. Blue eyes are bloodshot with bags hanging from them.
Olive skin is ashy pale and black hair is greasy and messy.
His lips are chapped and the bottom one is busted.
Judging by how fresh it looks, I surmise it’s from the hit I heard him take over the phone.
Yulian eyes me up and down. Not like the predator I once knew him to be, but like a weary old man who’s afraid of the doctor before him.
“The terms of our exchange are simple,” he tells me, ignoring my statement. “You stay. Annika and your baby leave Do you accept these terms?”
I glance toward the small hallway on the opposite side of the room that would lead to the staircase, and Yulian catches me.
“Their lives for yours,” Yulian states. “There’s no alternative. And there’s no use trying to get up there. Even if you kill me now, the man at your back or the one waiting for upstairs will put you down before you ever get to her.”
“Why are you doing this, Yulian?” I ask calmly, buying time. “Who’s forcing you to do this? What do they have on you?”
For a second I see tears glimmer in the old man’s eyes. Hell, if he wasn’t holding my wife and child captive I might feel sorry for him. Men in our families don’t cry, and if word ever got out that Yulian did, he’d be the laughingstock of our organization.
However the second passes and the tears don’t fall and Yulian doesn’t sniffle or sob. Instead he blinks those embarrassing salt drops away and clears his throat as he twists his mouth.
“We work together,” he tells me, casting his gaze down to the countertop. “We needed to take you down.”
“And what have I done to my people that warrants this execution?” I calmly ask, stepping to my left and out of direct range to the guard behind me.
I lean against the hutch, crossing one ankle over the other, and brace my hands on it. The guard eyes me up through the holes in his mask but he doesn’t demand I get back in front of him. Why would he? In such an open position, I’m clearly no threat. At least…that’s what I want him to think.
“What mistake am I paying for, Yulian?” I ask. “A dying man deserves to know that much.”
I’m staying as calm as I can as I ask Yulian the question, but I feel my rage and determination start to filter through my zen. Yulian doesn’t know that his answer changes his outcome for what happens next.
“Come on, Yulian,” I taunt, “Be a big boy and share your feelings.”
The guard to my right chuckles, and that’s what I’ve been waiting for. Laughing causes the muscles to loosen, the brain to slow down, even for just a few seconds. More than enough time for me to flick the blade down from the sleeve of my jacket and stab it into neck.
It’s human nature to try to stop bleeding the moment it starts, so as the guard drops my gun to grab at his neck, I catch it and put a single bullet into the man’s forehead.
Nothing but a soft thump of air leaves my pistol’s barrel, thanks to the new and improved silencer Edik put on it just before I left.
I catch the dead body as it rushes to the floor, laying it down gently so it doesn’t make a sound.
“Say something, Yulian,” I growl, holding pointing the gun at his forehead. “I don’t want to kill my wife’s father, but so help me I will.”
Yulian’s paler than ever now, but his brow is furrowed down in anger.
“You fucking fool,” he snarls at me, “You’ve just killed my daughter! There are cameras!”
From above, I hear a sudden loud thump, and panicked running, as if whoever was up there was carrying out the execution was already starting.
I do my best to ignore the sudden pain in my heart, but damn it if it’s not making my worry spike.
“You can stop it,” I pant, taking a step toward him. “You can help me stop it.”
“I can’t!” Yulian shouted, putting his hands to his head.
I feel what little restraint I have left let loose, and I pull back the hammer to take my shot.
“No!”
Her voice has my finger freezing on the trigger, and I turn my head, my heart leaping as I see my devochka standing in the hallway.