We move into the hallway. I feel a second wave of energy. Well, energy might have been a strong word, but I was moving. I could fire a gun.
There was still time. I could save her.
If we're fast enough.
If I can stay conscious.
My shoulder screams with every movement. My vision blurs. My legs threaten to give out.
But I keep moving. It’s
time to finally get something right.
"Come on." Semyon pulls me forward. "Your woman needs saving. Let's go be heroes."
Despite everything, I almost smile.
Then we're running—as much as my broken body allows—toward the chapel.
I will die trying to save her.
I know she would rather be dead than live through the fate he has planned for her. And I will gladly take my last breath if I know she’s at peace.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kira
Roman's smile is the cruelest thing I've ever seen.
"You get front row seats to watch me marry your precious little sister," he says, and there's savage satisfaction in every word. "And then you'll take her place with Volkov."
The words take a moment to register. Then horror crashes over me.
"You sick bastard." I lunge toward him, but the guards holding my arms jerk me back. "She's nineteen years old!"
"Old enough to learn obedience." His smile is pure evil. "And you're going to watch every moment of it, knowing this is what your betrayal cost her."
"It wasn't betrayal!" I'm screaming now, past caring about dignity. "You set us up! You orchestrated everything!"
"Details." He waves a dismissive hand. "What matters is that you'll spend your last hours watching your sister marry me. Watching her realize what her life will become. And knowing that afterward, you'll be handed to Volkov like the whore you are."
He turns to leave. I thrash against the guards. "I'll kill you! I swear to God, Roman, I'll—"
"You'll do nothing." He doesn't even look back. "You're powerless. Finally. Completely. Just like I planned."
The door slams shut with a finality that echoes in my bones.
The guards release me, and I collapse to my knees on the cold floor. A holding room somewhere in the compound. Plain walls. One window too high to reach. A door that's now locked from the outside.
My prison until the wedding.
I force myself to breathe. There has to be a way out of this. Has to be something I can do.
But what? I'm unarmed. Locked in. Guarded. And in less than an hour, Anya will be walking down an aisle toward a monster.
The door opens again, and I'm on my feet, ready to fight whoever comes through.
But it's Anya.
