I looked down at the gun, held it tightly in my hand before glancing back up into the darkened hallway.
There were no lights on except for what came from the exterior security lights, but they were facing away from the house so it was a muted light that barely pierced through the front windows.
And then there was a bang and flash and more bullets going off, grunts and curses rising through the house. I could hear flesh hitting flesh and felt my belly tighten in dread.
I swore I could smell the tinge of copper and gun smoke in the air.
I had to do something. I had to stop them. They’d hurt Kostya. God, they’d kill him.
I pushed myself off the ground and ran to the door, keeping flat to the wall and trying to breath steadily.
I leaned over and glanced down the hallway. I couldn’t see anything clearly, but I could make out four bodies all going after one person. My breath stalled and my eyes widened because I knew who they were going after.
I’d recognize Kostya even if it was pitch-dark out.
He was a head taller than all the other bodies, his shoulders like mountains. He was shirtless and only wore a pair of sweats, but God, the way he moved was fluid, like a machine that was born to do this.
And that broke my heart because that’s exactly what had happened.
One of the men lifted his arm, a gun in his hand. I screamed out, but Kostya was on him, twisting his neck so fast it was nothing but a blur of movement. And the sickening crack that followed the action had my gag reflex rising up.
I watched as the other three men all attacked him at once. But when I raised my arm, pointing the gun, I knew there was no way I could be sure I wouldn’t hit Kostya in the process.
I’d never actually shot a weapon. It was too dark, and my hands were shaking.
I stepped out from the safety of the bedroom and down the hall despite Kostya telling me not to. I couldn’t just stand by as he was outnumbered, although the closer I got, the more I saw he was handling them effortlessly.
He had weapons, at least one gun, but he wasn’t using it, instead sticking to hand-to-hand.
He took out another man, bending him at an unnatural angle. The man screamed, his back breaking over Kostya’s knee, before he was tossed aside like garbage.
Movement in the corner of the room caught my attention. I turned to see a large, shrouded figure off to the side. He lifted his arm, a gun pointed right at Kostya.
I didn’t think. I just pulled the trigger. The bullet landed in the wall beside his head… five feet away. He cursed out in Russian, and I gasped, realizing it was my father whom I’d just shot at.
“Papa,” I whispered, my attention back to Kostya as he dealt with the last remaining man.
Kostya pulled out a large hunting knife and brought it across the man’s neck. The squelching sound of liquid seemed to fill the interior.
“Darling, come here,” my father urged. “Come here.” He held his hand out. “Nyet,” he yelled out.
I felt something heavy and hard slam into the back of my head. The gun fell from my grasp and I stumbled forward, bracing my hands on the wall. Stars popped out along my field of vision, and I blinked furiously to keep my eyesight from blacking out.
I heard nasty words hurtled at me from behind and then I was jerked around so suddenly the world twisted out underneath me. The man who held me tossed me aside as if I were nothing but a bag of dirty laundry. I fell to the floor, heard a broken up roar to my side and knew it was Kostya. I looked at the man who stood above me, but he was shrouded in thick shadows. I held a hand out, palm outward. God, it was impossible to think.
My skull throbbed, the pain unlike anything I had felt before. Or so I thought.
He brought his foot down so hard and unyielding on my ankle that I screamed out. I heard Kostya roar out again, more gunshots, and glanced to the side to see Kostya charging forward, rage on his face.
But before he got to me, my father fired a shot. I watched Kostya fall forward just as the pain got too unbearable and everything went dark.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Anastasia
I groaned as consciousness started to filter back into me. I could hear someone speaking to me, felt something brush along my cheek, but my eyes felt too heavy to open. The first thing I took note of was that my ankle screamed fiercely in pain and that my head throbbed.
“You’ll be okay,” the voice said but it sounded distorted.