Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Gunshots?” I chew my lip and think back to Crete. I had the exact same thought then: the gunshots sounded like fireworks at first, but who sets off fireworks during the day? I remember feeling the same way then, confused, terrified, and totally sure I’m about to die. “Someone’s coming.”
“Kacia, I’m gonna ask you this one time, and please be honest. Is there anyone out there in the world that might come in here to rescue you, guns blazing?”
I close my eyes and nod. “Luca.”
She goes quiet and we stand on either side of the door, staring at each other.
If that’s really Luca and he’s coming for me then we might have a real shot at escaping. He wouldn’t have come all the way out here unless he planned on killing every Russian in this place and taking me home. My heart swells with a sudden sense of possibility, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, we might get lucky, and Adrienne might survive this ordeal.
But that hope is dashed when shouting echoes down the hall. It’s in Russian and I have no clue what they’re saying, but the voices get closer. There’s an intense discussion right outside of our door, entirely in a language I don’t understand, but I can get the general sense of it from their tone.
Shit’s going really, really wrong upstairs, and they’re trying to figure out what to do with us.
I nod at Adrienne and she nods back. I’m shaking, terrified, exhausted, my hands are weak from unraveling the spring, but I don’t care. All that hard work comes down to this moment. We wanted our chance and now we’re getting it.
I’m not about to let the Russians kills us without a fight.
I grip the hinge pins hard in either hand. They’re about four inches long with one sharpish end on each, which means they’re not huge, but they’ll definitely break skin if I slam them down into a man’s neck. They’re the only weapons I have, and although they’re going to be bloody and ugly and personal, I’ll do whatever it takes to get through this alive.
Adrienne’s holding the broken-off shard of the bucket handle like it’s a knife.
“Go back up and make sure they don’t get any further,” a man finally says in English. “Hurry the fuck up.” More gunshots go off and there’s shouting and I hear footsteps retreat down the hall and up the stairs.
The locks slam open. First one, then the other. I feel like I might be sick. I’m shaking, trembling, and adrenaline surges through my veins. The door teeters and tips, barely balanced upright now, and my heart starts to race wildly. If he notices that something’s off and hesitates, he might not come through the door, or he might come through armed and ready for a fight. There’s not much we can do against a trained Russian killer with a gun if he knows something is about to happen.
But more gunshots ring out, more pained shouts echo in the distance, and the last lock opens and the handle turns.
The man shouts in surprise and curses in Russian as the door slumps sideways, hits the floor, and falls inward.
I don’t recognize the guard on the other side, but he’s too shocked to do anything. He’s still holding the handle as the door drops, and he staggers forward, completely off balance as it drags him forward, and I scream as I leap on him and slam the pins down like daggers, aiming for his throat.
One pin bites into the flesh in his shoulder right next to his neck. He screams, tries to thrash, but he’s off balance and only manages to topple to the floor. I stab him again and again with the other pin, digging into his flesh, into his neck and throat and shoulder, and Adrienne falls on him, jamming her bent handle into his ribs and stomach. The man roars and backhands me off him, sending me sprawling, but Adrienne keeps stabbing. He reaches for a gun, tries to bring it up—
But I leap on him and bite his wrist as hard as I can. I’m feral and in survival mode and I’m not thinking about anything but making sure this man doesn’t walk away from this fight. I taste the iron and copper burst of blood as he screams and fires into the ceiling. The noise is so loud it instantly makes my ears ring and I can’t hear anything else as Adrienne kicks the guy in the teeth and I stab him in the throat, finally hitting a major artery.
Blood sprays everywhere, pulsing from the wound. I put all my body weight on the arm holding the gun and keep it down on the floor as he shoots two more times at nothing. He’s groaning, trying to struggle, but he’s getting weaker and weaker from blood loss. Adrienne kicks him again and again in the face, and finally, he stops moving and making noise.