Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
A bang drew Radik’s attention, startling him. He was standing in the middle of his room, his gun in hand, no memory of getting out of bed. Sweat was streaking his face and head.
The bang sounded again, followed by the faint sound of a voice calling him. “Muhammed!”
Saskia was in trouble!
He rushed to the door separating their rooms and yanked it open. Saskia was standing on the other side wearing a pair of brief shorts and a sleeveless top, her face pale and stricken.
“I’ve got you,” he said, dragging her into his arms.
She clung to him, said something, but he couldn’t hear past the buzzing in his head. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Dragging his phone from his pocket, he pulled up the house’s video feeds. There, he could see them outside the house. They were surrounded by enemies.
He had to act quickly.
Dragging a blanket from his bed, he wrapped it around Saskia.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door. “Come with me.” He yanked it open and scanned the hallway.
“Where are we going?” Saskia’s sleepy voice held fear and bewilderment. He wanted to ease her worries, but saving her life was more important.
“Come,” he urged her, pulling her into the hallway, covering her with his body as he trained his gun on the shadows.
“What’s happening?” she whispered, hurrying to match his longer strides.
“We’re under attack,” he said tersely.
“Who’s attacking us?” Her voice rose with alarm. “I need a gun.”
Right, he forgot that she was trained with weapons, even if she wasn’t great at using them. He should’ve made sure she had one in her room. An oversight he would correct once he neutralized the threat.
“I don’t see or hear anything,” she said fearfully, running down the steps to the main floor behind him. “Where are they?”
“They’re out there. Saw them on the cameras.” The shadows had moved in formation, the way his own men would move when carrying out a strike.
He had to get Saskia to safety then worry about everyone else.
Fuck, where was Nuani? He was second-in-command for Marifiya.
It was his job to alert the townspeople, to get them to safety in the event of an attack.
The sirens should be going off, ensuring everyone leave their beds and get to their checkpoints for head count.
Nuani was a good man. He’d have to have been injured or killed not to activate the alert.
Radik had to get to the control center, see what was happening, but he needed to secure Saskia first. She was his priority.
He pulled her through the main floor and down the stairs leading into the basement.
She was shivering, the blanket dragging behind her as she tried to hang on to it while running. “Where are we?” There were panicked tears in her voice.
He punched in the code to the house’s saferoom, dragging the heavy fire door open. The saferoom was impenetrable. A five-ton bomb could drop directly on the house and it wouldn’t breach the 10 by 10-foot box. Saskia would be safe.
“I’m sorry,” he said, crushing her against his chest.
He needed to feel her against him, her softness, her scent. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling.
“Why’re you sorry?” she asked, her voice high and thin.
For leaving you alone here, he thought, but didn’t say as he pushed her into the room. She stared at him uncomprehending as he slammed the door in her face, locking her inside.
He had no idea how she reacted because the room was soundproof. She could be screaming her head off, pounding on the door and he wouldn’t know. Regret that she might hate him for leaving her alone in the dark warred with his relief that she was finally safe.
Now he could think clearly. Do what had to be done to retake Marifiya from the enemy.
He strode to the weapons room, punching in the code. Inside, he chose his weapons: a beretta, an AK, bullets, a hunting knife and several grenades. Strapping everything to his body, he rushed back through the door, now fully prepared to meet the threat head on.
He made his way carefully back upstairs though it looked like the enemy had yet to penetrate the house.
Who could they be? An old enemy come for revenge? Or a younger, hungrier warlord, trying to take out a legend.
A sound drew his attention and he turned, preparing to fire. In the dim light coming through the windows, he could make out Shola’s face, which was set in grim lines. She was holding a gun and it was trained on him. She lowered it when she recognized him. He did the same.
“We’re surrounded,” Radik told her.
“Where’s Saskia?” she demanded.
“She’s locked in the safe room.”
Relief flickered across her features.
“Fall in behind me and we’ll make our way to the control center. Figure out why Nuani hasn’t raised the alarm.”
She nodded and jerked her head toward the front door. “Let’s get out of here.”
He turned his back on her.
Something struck him in the spine and a jolt went through him, sending him to his knees. Dizziness engulfed him, but he didn’t pass out.
With a growl, he spun around on his knees to face Shola, aiming his Berretta at her. “You betrayed me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, fear in her eyes as she continued to hold her weapon on him.
“You will be.” He aimed at her head, but before he could pull the trigger, he was struck again, this time from a different direction. The impact sent him to the ground where he landed on his side, then rolled to his back. He couldn’t move; he was helpless.
Nuani stood over him, gun in hand. “Sorry, Boss.”
It was the last thing he heard before he passed out.