Without another word, I take off toward the building. I move fast and silent, climbing the rusted ladder at the side. It groans under my weight, but I keep going until I reach the rooftop. The metal hatch is exactly where Davýd said it would be. I wrench it open as quietly as I can and slide inside.
The ductwork is narrow as hell. My shoulders scrape the sides, but I push through, adrenaline drowning out every ounce of discomfort. I crawl until I reach the final grate. Below me is a dim, flickering light, and I can hear voices.
“Volkov should receive our message soon,” a man says. “Then we will see how valuable you really are.”
The voice slides down my spine like a blade. I inch forward and look. What I see makes my vision tunnel.
Molly is chained to the far wall with her hands cuffed above her head, tethered to a bolt. She’s on a stained mattress that makes my stomach twist. Her legs tremble. She isn’t crying, but her face is too pale, eyes glazed with shock. She’s holding herself stiff, trying to stay silent.
A man sits in a chair near her, lean, twitchy, and mean. He tilts his head toward her like a predator ready to pounce. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I know that man. He’s her attacker from the alley.
My hand tightens around my gun. He’s clearly leering at her, but he isn’t touching her yet. I doubt it’s because he doesn’t want to. It’s because someone told him not to. And if he’s being so patient, that must be because Lebedev is nearby, watching him.
I ease the grate free and let it fall silently onto insulation. I pull out the rope, clip in, and lower myself inch by inch along the rafters until I’m above her captor.
Below, he laughs quietly.
“I can’t wait for Volkov to show up,” he says, voice dripping with cruelty. “Goddamn, the things I’m going to do to you. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”
My blood spikes so fast it blurs my vision. My hands are steady, but something cracks open inside me. Something primal. Those will be the last words he ever says.
I position myself and kick out the grate, propelling myself down the ductwork and dropping the last few feet hard enough to make the beam rattle. The man barely has time to look up. I shoot him clean through the face.
It isn’t elegant. It isn’t tactical. It isn’t even my usual work. It’s point-blank, brutal, and intentional. Blood sprays across the concrete. His chair flips backward. His body hits the ground with a sickening thud that echoes through the warehouse.
Molly lets out a terrified shriek. Her eyes fly wide, filling with tears before she can stop them. When she sees me holding the gun, though, her expression changes. I expected anger or even more fear, but she looks completely relieved.
“Samuil…” she whispers, barely able to get the word out.
I want to go to her, cut through her chains, and get her the hell out of here, but there’s still some business to take care of before it’s safe enough to do so.
Lebedev shouts from somewhere behind the crates, “Volkov!” and I turn to find him drawing his gun.
I shoot first, but he’s faster than I expected. He ducks behind the metal shelving before the bullet can hit. The shot ricochets off the steel column. He disappears into the maze of crates. What a fucking coward.
I move toward Molly, scanning for a second attacker. There’s none. He left her alone with that bastard.
“Molly,” I say, my voice cracking as I reach her, both hands out but careful not to grab her too suddenly.
She flinches, but then she leans her forehead against my chest like she’s been holding herself together for hours. Her tears hit my shirt instantly.
I cup the back of her head gently. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Her whole body shakes. She tries to wipe her face with her shoulder, humiliated or overwhelmed, I can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s breathing and she’s safe. Or, at least, she will be soon.
“Don’t touch the chain,” she whispers shakily. “It hurts.”
“I can take care of that,” I tell her, my words coming out low and raw. “Hold still.”
I switch guns, using the slimmer one to shoot the bolt. The chain drops. She gasps when her arms fall forward, and I catch her before she collapses fully. Her wrists are raw, blistered, and bleeding slightly. Fury punches through me so violently that I nearly see stars.
I want Lebedev’s head. I want to carve my name into his bones, but right now, Molly is all that matters. She sags against me, crying openly now, her silent tears turned into broken sobs. She clutches my shirt like she wants to disappear into me. I scoop her up, bridal-style, because her legs are shaking too badly for her to stand.
“I thought—” Her voice breaks as she tries again. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”
“I’ll always come for you,” I tell her as honestly as I can bear. “Even if you hate me, even if you never speak to me again, I will always rescue you.”
A gunshot cracks across the warehouse. I pivot sharply, shielding her with my body, but there’s no need to reach for my weapon. The shot wasn’t aimed at us.
