Strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. Not Dmitri's arms. These smell like cigarettes and sweat and something chemical that burns my nose.
"Got her. The exit next to the toilet!" the man shouts in accented English.
He hauls me backward. My heels scrape against the floor. The gun falls from my grip, clattering away into the darkness.
No.
No, no, no.
I claw at his arms. Kick backward. My heel connects with his shin but he doesn't even grunt. Just keeps dragging me toward the exit door I can see opening behind us.
Cold air rushes in from outside.
"Dmitri!" His name rips from my throat.
I see him turn. See his eyes find me in the chaos. See the exact moment he registers what's happening.
Then I feel the gun press against my temple.
The metal is warm. Recently fired. The barrel digs into my skin hard enough to bruise.
Everything goes quiet in my head. The shouting fades. The gunfire becomes distant. All I can hear is my own breathing and the man's voice in my ear.
"Don't move."
He pulls me through the exit door. My back hits the frame. Cold night air wraps around my bare shoulders.
Dmitri is moving toward us. His gun is raised but his face?—
I've never seen him look like that.
Empty. Completely empty except for something dark and terrible swimming in those pale eyes.
"Back off!" The man's shout makes the gun dig harder into my temple. "Back off or she's dead!"
Dmitri stops. Ten feet away. Might as well be a mile.
"Let her go." His voice is flat. Dead. "Take me instead."
"No—" I start.
The gun presses harder. "Shut up."
Dmitri's eyes flick to mine for half a second. I see the calculation there. The strategy. He's looking for an angle, a shot, a way to end this that doesn't end with my brains on the wall.
"I'm the pakhan," Dmitri says. Still in that terrible flat voice. "I'm worth more than her. Trade."
The man laughs. The sound vibrates against my back. "Nice try, Baganov. But I think we'll keep the pretty princess."
Movement catches my eye. To the left, partially hidden behind an overturned table. Someone in tactical gear, rifle raised, red dot dancing across the chaos.
Aimed at the man holding me.
But the angle is wrong. Too close to my head. One wrong move and?—
I try to shift. Try to give them a clearer shot. The man's arm tightens around my waist until I can't breathe.
"I said don't move."
