Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Tolya
The Warehouse
The warehouse rises ahead of me like a monolith of rust, crouched in the middle of nowhere. It’s just like I remember—except now, every corner of it drips with dread.
I crouch low behind the truck, scanning the perimeter. Nico is merely a dark shape fifty yards behind me on the eastern ridge, rifle up and scope locked on the entry. He’s my only cover as I run across the vast open yard to the side of the building.
My hand tightens around the grip of my pistol. I ease up just enough to peer through a cracked window.
That’s when I catch sight of her. Slumped in a chair, arms bound, head forward like she’s unconscious—or worse, dead. Blood streaked down her temple. Her face is pale, lashes unmoving. There’s a bruise blooming along her cheekbone, ugly and purple.
My chest seizes as she moves, lulling her head to the side. She’s still alive. Focusing hard I can see her chest rise and fall, shallow but steady. I don’t have time to hesitate.
I glance back to the ridge where Nico is hidden and give him a single, sharp gesture: hold your position and cover me.
I move fast. Silent. Into the building.
The back door opens just enough to let me slip in before the rusty hinges start to creak. The air inside is cold and musty. Reeking of oil rot and old blood. I’m careful to move swift but quiet, not wanting to risk the echoes that fill this place with heavy movement.
Luckily, Yaro doesn’t hear me coming. Too distracted. He’s crouched in front of her, checking the ties on her wrists, muttering something under his breath.
I don’t wait. Moving in fast I slam the butt of my pistol into the side of his head. He goes down hard, collapsing beside the chair with a grunt. Dazed. Confused. Trying to push himself upright despite the dizziness.
But I’m already on him. I holster the gun and drop to my knees, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and driving him down into the cracked concrete.
He groans, spitting blood at me, pulling his hands up to shield his face as he tries to roll away.
But I don't let him.
My fist cracks against his cheekbone with a sound like thunder. Again. And again. My vision red.
"You piece of shit," I growl, slamming his head back down with another punch. "You think this makes you a man? Kidnapping my wife?"
Blood splatters. His nose crunches. He grunts, arms flailing, desperately trying to block me.
"You think your father would be proud of what you’ve become?"
Another blow.
"Your father—" I spit the words like poison. "—was a man of honor. He died saving me. You’ll die because you betrayed me and disrespected his memory."
I punched him again.
"He chose to protect me, he chose that. And I’ve lived with his death every damn day since."
Crack. Blood is seeping multiple contusions on his face now, his eye is swelling shut now.
"I gave your mother that money as atonement. I tried to help. To keep you both comfortable. But you? You wanted revenge?"
I drag him up by the collar, slam him into the floor again.
"You’re not an avenger," I snarl. "You, you’re filth. Just trash looking for someone to blame."
He coughs, sputtering, trying to speak—but I don’t let him. I punch him until I’m panting, knuckles wet, arms shaking. Until all that’s left beneath me is a bloodied, broken thing that barely looks human.
Then I finally stop. Not because I’m done, but because Eva groans behind me.
My head snaps up. Eyes locking on her previously still frame. The sound slices through the haze of blood and fury like a blade. My heartbeat stutters and I turn just enough to see her sitting upright in the chair, lifting her head to watch me.
She’s awake.
She’s alive.
Behind me, Yaro moves—just barely. A groan. A twitch of fingers against the concrete. A smear of red trailing from his mouth. And I realize he’s still breathing. I’m not willing to risk it.
I stand, calm and slow, every cell in my body is made of steel. I draw my pistol and aim it directly at him as he tries to lift his head.
His one good eye blinks up at me, blood-streaked and dazed. And I shoot him in the chest.
Once.
Twice.
His body jerks with each shot—then goes still, dark blood spreading out like a shadow beneath him.
The echo of the gunfire fades into a terrible, perfect silence. I holster the weapon without looking as I rush to Eva’s side.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper as I kneel beside her, pulling my knife out to saw through the ties around her ankles and then her wrists. “You’re safe now.”
She stirs, lashes fluttering. Her lips move, forming my name in a cracked whisper.
“Tolya…”
Crouching low I brush the hair from her face, gently touching her cheek. She blinks at me, disoriented. “He… kicked me.”
“I know, kotyonok. I know.”
I snap the last tie with a savage rip and pull her into my arms, holding her like she’ll disappear if I don’t anchor her to this world.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, low and deadly calm. “No one will ever touch you again.”