Then I hear it. A sound so faint I almost miss it. A crack, like a branch breaking. Then another. And another.
Someone is outside. Moving through the woods toward the cabin.
My heart starts racing. Is it Dimitri? Or is it more Kozlov soldiers, coming to decide my fate?
The sounds grow closer. I hear voices now, low and urgent, speaking Russian. But I can't make out the words through the walls.
Then gunfire erupts.
The sound is deafening even through the walls. Automatic weapons, the rapid staccato of bullets tearing through the night. Men shouting. Glass shattering.
I scramble to my feet, my bound hands making it difficult to balance. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. What's happening? Is it Dimitri? Is he here?
The door to my prison flies open, and light floods in, blinding me after so long in darkness. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust, and see the man with the scar standing in the doorway. His face is twisted with rage and fear.
"Get over here!" he snarls, grabbing my arm and yanking me forward.
I stumble, my legs weak and uncoordinated. He drags me out of the tiny room into the main area of the cabin. The other Kozlov soldiers are positioned at the windows, weapons drawn, firing into the darkness outside.
"What's happening?" I ask, though I think I already know.
The man with the scar pulls me toward one of the windows, his grip bruising on my arm. "Your boyfriend's here. Morozov and his men. They found you."
Relief floods through me so intense it makes my knees weak. Dimitri came. He got my signal. He found me.
"Now, you can watch him die," the scarred man says, his voice cruel. He forces me to look out the window.
And there, emerging from the tree line like something out of a nightmare, is Dimitri.
He's dressed all in black, body armor strapped over his chest, a rifle in his hands. His face is hard, cold, absolutely merciless. Behind him, I can see more men, at least a dozen, all armed, all moving with military precision.
He looks like death itself. Like an avenging angel come to rain destruction on anyone who stands in his way.
And he's here for me.
The gunfire intensifies. The Kozlov soldiers are firing from the windows, trying to hold their position. But Dimitri's men are better trained, better equipped. I watch as precise, controlled shots take out the perimeter guards one by one. Bodies fall in the darkness.
Then the front door explodes inward.
The sound is deafening. Wood splinters, hinges tear free, and smoke billows into the cabin. Through the smoke, like something out of a fever dream, Dimitri comes.
His green eyes scan the room, taking in everything in a split second. The Kozlov soldiers. The weapons. And me, standing by the window with the scarred man's hand still gripping my arm.
Our eyes meet across the chaos, and something passes between us. Recognition. Relief. And something else. Something fierce and possessive that makes my breath catch.
"Let her go," Dimitri says, his voice cutting through the noise. He's speaking Russian, his tone absolutely calm despite the violence erupting around us.
The scarred man laughs, a harsh sound. "Or what? You'll kill us all? We're already dead men, Morozov. You made sure of that when you came here."
"Then die with some dignity. Let the girl go."
More of Dimitri's men pour through the doorway, flanking him. They move like a well-oiled machine, taking positions, covering angles. The Kozlov soldiers are outnumbered and outgunned, and they know it.
But cornered animals are the most dangerous.
The firefight that erupts is brutal and brief. Gunfire fills the small cabin, deafening in the enclosed space. I see one of the Kozlov soldiers go down, then another. Blood sprays across the walls. The smells of gunpowder and copper fill the air.
The scarred man releases my arm and raises his weapon, aiming at Dimitri. I don't think. I just react. I throw myself at him, my bound hands swinging up to knock his arm aside.
