“We’re going to head in the direction I think the safehouse is,” I tell her flatly. “Stick with me, and we’re going to stay as deep in the trees as we can. Make it hard for them to get to us. We need to move fast. The storm's clearing—they'll be able to track us, and I remember Iosef said they have dogs."
Svetlana pales, and I wish I hadn’t mentioned that. But she just nods, following me to the door as I ease it open and check outside.
The lights are closer now, and I can hear the high-pitched whine of snowmobile engines cutting through the quiet. They're coming fast, and they know where we are. Someone must have found the SUV and followed our tracks.
Shit. My jaw tightens. They have snowmobiles, so they’ll be faster than us… but we can also get into places in the woods they won’t be able to. We might be able to lose them, if we’re quick.
"Stay close," I tell her, glancing back. "Step where I step. Do exactly what I say, when I say it. No hesitation. If I tell you to run, you run. Don't look back, don't wait for me. Just get to the tree line and keep going northeast. Understand?"
She nods tightly, and I let out a sharp breath.
"Okay."
We slip out into the pre-dawn darkness. The snow has stopped completely now, and the wind is just a whisper. Our breath fogs in the air, visible even in the dim light.
I lead us away from the cabin, angling toward the forest. The snow is deep—above our knees in places—and every step is an effort. Svetlana's breathing hard behind me, but she keeps up. The lights are getting closer. I can make out individual headlamps now, sweeping across the landscape.
We're nearly to the tree line when I hear a shout. They've seen us.
"Run!" I hiss, and Svetlana obeys, bolting as fast as she can through the deep snow toward the forest as I follow her, ready to turn and shoot as soon as anyone is close enough.
The forest swallows us, branches whipping at our faces, roots hidden under the snow trying to trip us. I can hear the snowmobiles behind us, engines revving as they give chase. They can't follow us into the dense trees, but they can try to circle around and find where it thins out again, and cut us off. We can’t go in a straight line.
I pull Svetlana to the left, changing direction. She stumbles, and I catch her, hauling her upright. Her face is pale, her lips pressed together in a tight line, and I see a thin line of blood freezing on her chin where the split in her lip has opened up again. But she doesn’t complain. She just keeps going, her eyes wide with fear.
The sound of the engines is everywhere now, echoing through the trees. I can't tell how many there are or where they're coming from. We need to lose them, need to?—
A figure steps out from behind a tree directly in front of us, and I don't think. I just react.
I shove Svetlana to the side and bring my gun up, squeezing off two rounds in quick succession. The first one goes wide, butthe second catches him in the shoulder. He goes down with a grunt, and I'm on him before he can recover.
It’s a man I don’t recognize—one of Iosef’s guards, maybe. He looks to be in his thirties. He tries to grab for the gun that fell from his back when I shot him, and I kick it away. He swings at me, and I block it, driving my elbow into his face, hearing the sound of bone crunching. He falls back, blood streaming from his nose, and I hit him again and again until he stops moving.
"Kazimir." Svetlana's voice cuts through the red haze. "We need to go."
She's right.I can hear voices now, calling to each other. They know we're here. They're closing in.
I grab the man's rifle—a hunting rifle, bolt-action—and check the magazine. Four rounds. Better than nothing.
"Move," I tell Svetlana, and we're running again.
The forest is getting lighter. Dawn is coming, and with it, the end of our chance at cover in shadows and the depths of the trees. And, as we bolt forward, I see a man with a rifle step out from behind a boulder a few yards ahead of us.
"Down!" I shout, and Svetlana drops. The crack of the rifle shot echoes through the trees, and bark explodes from the trunk next to my head. I bring up the hunting rifle and fire back, the bullet going wide. He’s moved already, using the trees for cover.
I fire again. This time, I see him jerk and stumble, a red spray staining the snow. Not a kill shot, but enough to slow him down.
"Go!" I tell Svetlana, and she's up and running. I lay down covering fire—two more shots, both of them wild—and then I'm running too.
I see a thin gap between trees, just wide enough that it might be a deer trail when there are no trees, and take a chance. I pull Svetlana with me, taking us down the trail until it curves right… and there’s another small hunting cabin, probably used for staking out game coming down that trail.
We hit the porch at a dead run. I'm working on the lock when I hear the snowmobile engine coming from the right, through the wider trail at the other side, and I shove my knife into the old lock and twist.
The lock gives. I shove the door open and push Svetlana inside, then turn back.
The snowmobile bursts out of the tree line, and I can see the rider clearly now. It’s Pyotr, and behind him, I see two more snowmobiles with men I don’t recognize, baying dogs coming out of the treeline with them. Inside, I hear Svetlana make a choked sound.
There’s a pistol in Pyotr’s hand. Before he can aim, I point the rifle and pull the trigger.
