I force myself to calm down. If Aslanov’s men are here guarding the place, then she has to be here. There’s no doubt about it.
I chance a call, hoping I won’t expose myself to Aslanov or his thugs. “Lauren?” I hiss, quietly pacing through more aisles. I look left and right, down each one, but all I see is emptiness and empty racking.
I briefly shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose to give myself a moment. I feel something prick at the corner of my eye, a sudden emotion I am struggling to recognize. Is it a tear trying to break free?
K chertu eto.
Fuck that.
The only time I will be crying is when I have located her, when she is safe. When she is birthing our child into the world. Not before.
I was afraid to say out loud how I felt about her, how much she means to me. When you speak things into existence, the world tends to throw them back in your face. Aside from the fact that I was, for so long, unwilling to admit how much Lauren meant to me, I was also scared to let the world hear my truth. There are billions of ears on this planet, so my words were bound to be picked up by one of my enemies.
I have said nothing, and still, that fucker Aslanov has found a way to crack me. He might have even caught word of Lauren’s pregnancy, but how did he know that I was invested in it? What Lauren and I have could just be a one-time thing for all he cares.
But he knows.
That bastard always knows.
“Lauren?” I call into the darkness.
Nothing.
The stacks go on for miles. I continue jogging down them, my head getting dizzy from how much it’s spinning left and right to check for any activity happening between the shelves.
It’s not good.
Everything is empty.
I pick up the pace, falling into a run to get out of the maze. The sounds of my own footsteps beating against the concrete fill the atmosphere, echoing off the walls. I keep sprinting, adrenaline surging into my legs, making me faster. I cover good ground, nearing the end of the stacks when a bullet ricochets right in front of me on the metal stack I’m just about to pass.
Yobany urod!
I don’t falter and keep moving, but glance over my shoulder just in time to see somebody following me. It’s one of Aslanov’s men. No, two. They chase after me, firing another bullet that I dodge by the skin of my teeth, taking a last-minute diversion.
Bastards.
Sneaking down one of the aisles, I catch my breath for a moment, waiting for the chasers to run straight past, but the fuckers turn the corner too.
“Offence is the best defence,”my old man used to say.
Time to change my strategy.
I turn around, exhale a breath as I aim at one of the fuckers, and squeeze the trigger. My bullet goes straight through the first guy’s chest, sending his lifeless body back. He collapses against a rack, metal clanging somewhere above. The second one gets one right above his left eye. His brain matter splatters all over a pile of cardboard, spoiling it for any future use.
Tak tebe i nado, pridurok.
I don’t stay long enough to see his body fall. I turn back around to continue on my original path, moving deeper and deeper into the building.
I reach the end soon enough.
And it’s a fucking dead end.
Pizdets!
I punch the concrete wall, cursing. Fear etches at me. Where the fuck can she be? I don’t have time to stumble around in an empty warehouse when my woman and my child are in trouble.
That is when something bright catches my attention. I turn my head, realizing that I must have reached the other end of the facility. Wait…no. Not the other end. Shipping and loading. I move closer to see more loading docks, all equally spaced apart. Most have the shutters down, but it would appear that the mechanics have failed for some—they’re half closed.
