I move closer, squinting from the last rays of sunlight outside. It has turned an angry red, the semi-circle quickly dipping beneath the horizon as the evening transitions to night. I peer out of the door, surveying the concrete surroundings. There are cracks and gaps where pieces of grass and weeds have broken through. Parked trucks litter the place, making the area look more like a scrapyard. There are abandoned shipping containers, all rusted; old tires everywhere.
The scream that rips through the air almost makes me jump.
“Lauren,” I say her name under my breath. Adrenaline floods my entire system in an instant.
I’m coming, lapochka!
Ducking underneath the half-closed shutter, I sprint out of the warehouse and let my legs carry me through the scrapyard. It’s not the safest place to run, especially with all of the abandoned machinery everywhere, but I’m beyond caring.
“Lauren!” I yell, my feet thumping against the cracked concrete ground.
“Niko?!”
Bozhe moy!
She’s here!
I pause in my tracks to locate the right container. There’s no way Aslanov’s keeping her in there. The metal structure echoes more sounds. Something crashes. There’s another whimper from Lauren.
I lock onto my target and dart towards the orange shipping container about a stone’s throw from where I currently am. On approach, I pull out my gun and make sure there are enough bullets loaded. I have a feeling I will need as many as I can get. I wince, hoping that Timur will manage to find me—I’m probably going to need all the help I can get.
I reach the container, circling around the circumference to find the entrance. It’s large, much bigger than it looked when I was back in the warehouse. Reaching the back, I notice that the cargo door is all shut up. Rage swimming through me, I lunge forward and attack the door, using brute strength to try and tear it open.
She’s in here, breathing heavily.
Another whimper leaves her lips.
I lose it when I hear her yell, “Stop!” unsure if that was meant for me or her captor.
I point the muzzle of my gun at the lock and waste a bullet trying to shoot it open.
Of course, it doesn’t work.
But then, there’s a clunky metal sound.
Instinctively, I stand aside as the door opens from the top, crashing down to the ground as loudly as thunder. Light filters into the dark shipping container, settling on a face.
Her face.
She squints, her eyes softening as soon as she sees me.
“Lapochka.” I dart inside, vaulting over the fallen door to get to her. I go to reach for her hand but notice that she has been tied up, zip ties cutting into her skin.
Ublyudok!
I’ll gut that fucking Aslanov for laying a hand on her!
Seeing her in this state makes my blood boil. Her satin hair is all tangled, and her skin is no longer soft. She’s dehydrated. There are small gashes everywhere. Not to mention her eyes. They look so hurt. So betrayed. So defeated.
“Niko, no! You shouldn’t be here,” she whimpers. “You shouldn’t have—”
“Ever heard of knocking?” A voice interrupts her.
I tense up, almost forgetting about the other body in here. Dread starts to sink into my stomach. That voice. That fucking voice.
I turn around to face the source. A man stands in the doorway of the shipping container, his legs shoulder width apart. Against the dying light, his menacing figure appears as a silhouette, but I get a clearer image of him the more I look.
It’s him.
