Chapter 35
Nadya
VERA PRESSED HERSELF against the wall, and I joined her. Our weapons were pathetic. It’d be a minor miracle if we didn’t get killed today.
No. Fuck that. We weren’t going down that easy. I had promised Nick I’d go see his parents and be there for him. I wouldn’t go back on that.
A tiny sound escaped me at the thought of Nick. He had quickly become one of the most important people in my life. And now I might never see him again.
Oh, damn. I had to admit to myself that I’d started falling for him sometime between elbowing him in the eye and cuddling up to him. Or maybe I fell for him when he took down one of the worst monsters from my past.
The two voices reached us, and that was definitely not Sean or Glen. They were whispering, but it still carried. I heard the word “kitchen,” then “upstairs,” then a laugh.
Vera looked at me. Her face was blank, but her eyes spoke of her terror.
The footsteps got closer. One of the men said, “Check that bedroom.”
A few seconds later, a thud shook the bathroom door, followed by the snap of wood around the lock. Another thud. Then another and the flimsy wood split.
The door swung inward and bounced off the counter . I didn’t wait to see what would happen. As soon as his face appeared, I sprayed the cleaner into his eyes. As he screamed, his hands flying to his face, Vera jabbed the mop handle into his stomach.
His knees buckled and he grabbed on to the doorframe to stay upright. Of, fuck, he needed to go down. Like, really go down. Vera jabbed again, this time catching him in the throat. He staggered back, coughing, before he smashed into the wall.
The second man rushed into the bedroom. He was taller, with a shaved head and a cheap black suit, and he hesitated for just a half second, then swore and started hauling his buddy out. We weren’t dumb enough to go after them. Hopefully, it wasn’t a mistake.
Or maybe it was. There was no way they’d just leave, and we left our phones downstairs, so it’s not like we could call for help. They could call for reinforcements, though.
But going after them might be just as dangerous if they had guns.
A door slammed shut, then a scraping sound followed, all while the dickhead screamed. I didn’t usually enjoy other people’s suffering, but this time, it was music to my ears.
We both sank to the floor, backs to the tub, panting.
“That was good,” Vera gasped, sweat running down her jaw. “That was too good. So good it’s probably isn’t over.”
I tried to laugh, but my throat wouldn’t work. Yeah, we were still stuck here and I didn’t see those two leaving us alone.
“First Ljuba, then the asshole who broke into my apartment, and now this,” I summed up. “Maybe we should take Nick up on the whole protective custody thing.”
Assuming we survived today.
“If we survive this,” Vera answered, echoing my thoughts.
We’d better survive it. I had so much I wanted to say to Nick.
“Have I told you I’m an alcoholic?” I asked Vera because that was better than freaking out, and my big sister deserved a chance to say she told me so. “You were right. I have to quit self-destructing."
Vera let out a slow, calming breath, making me wonder how badly she wanted to yell at me for being stupid enough to start drinking in the first place.
“How long since the last time you had a drink?” she asked instead.
“Not since last night.”
She nodded slowly. “We don’t have alcohol here because Sean used to struggle with that, too, so if your withdrawal symptoms get really bad before we get out of here, you’ll be screwed.”
Sean? I couldn’t imagine Vera’s beefcake of a fake fiancé having any kind of unhealthy habits. He seemed to have his shit together, considering he had a successful security company.
Did that mean I wasn’t a lost cause?
The sound of stomping and doors slamming came from downstairs. Then the smell hit me. Vera caught it too. Her eyes went wide. “Is that—?”
“Smoke,” I said. “They’re setting the house on fire.”
“We have to get out. Now.”
I scanned the bathroom—towels, a bathmat, and two plastic baskets of half-empty shampoo bottles. I grabbed the two hand towels, soaked them in water, then handed one to Vera and pressed the other over my face.
Vera stared at her towel for a second before tying it over her mouth and nose like a desperate, furious bank robber. I did the same. Then she wrenched open the bathroom door, checked the bedroom, and beckoned me to follow. There was already smoke drifting in from under the closed door.
I sprinted for it, my hand going to the handle.
It turned, but the door didn’t budge. Bile crept up my throat, not just from fear but the smell of burning plastic.
I looked around, praying for a tool, a weapon, anything.
Vera eyed the leg of the nightstand, took a deep breath, and kicked.
It didn’t budge. She tried the second time.
Nothing. Finally, on the third kick, the leg broke off splintered but mostly intact.
She handed it to me. “If they come back up, you hit them as hard as you can.” Her voice was muffled behind the towel, but her eyes held a command. “Turn the handle so it’s in the open position and hold it there.”
“Understood,” I said, and gripped the wood so tight the grain cut into my skin.
The air was thickening, the smoke crawling lower, clinging to the blinds and sheets.
Then Vera slammed her shoulder into the door.
It barely moved. She did it again, and again, and again.
Each time, the door inched a little farther until we could squeeze through.
I went out first and found a chair wedged under the door handle.
Vera had been able to move it enough, but fuck.
This could’ve killed us. Still might, if the thick smoke was any indication.
My eyes and throat closed up. The whole landing was a soup of gray, so thick you could stir it. I blinked until my vision cleared enough to see the stairs.
“We can’t go down,” I said, pointing at the rolling blanket of black that filled the stairwell.
Vera grabbed my arm and yanked me down anyway. “We have to. The fire will travel up, so we’ll die if we don’t get out now.”
Two steps in, and the world dipped sideways. My head swam. I stumbled, almost taking Vera with me. Stupid smoke inhalation.
Vera steadied me. “Nadya. You have to stay awake. You hear me?”
I nodded, wondering what the hell had happened with my overactive brain. Shouldn’t it be, you know, hyper and helping me through this?
I blinked smoke from my eyes and tried to breathe shallow, the wet towel doing fuck-all to keep the sting out. My lungs burned, and my knees turned boneless, but Vera kept pushing, practically dragging me down every step.
The bottom of the stairs was a black hole. I could barely see the banister, or Vera, but I felt her death grip on my wrist.
I tried to bolt for the kitchen, thinking if we could make it out through the back, we might avoid the worst of the smoke—or avoid whoever was at the front.
But Vera yanked me into the semi-finished basement.
I didn’t understand why, until she slammed the door behind us and shoved the towel tighter over my face.
She guided me down onto the floor, under the stairs, and crawled in after me.
The air here was cleaner, but we still needed to get out.
“You think they’re still outside?” I asked. It was the only reason I could think of for why she wouldn’t run for the exit.
“I think they want us dead, no matter if it’s by fire or bullet,” Vera answered.
Or explosion. “Do you have gas?”
Vera shook her head. “Everything is electric.”
Small mercies. Not that burning alive was that much better, but maybe the fire department would get here fast enough and scare off anyone who might be waiting for us to come out.