He won't shoot.
That thought emboldens me, so I kick again harder this time, and he falls backward. The gun clatters to the floor somewhere behind him, and we both dive for it at the same time. My fingers brush the grip, but his hand closes around my ankle and yanks me backward.
I slide across the stone floor and lose sight of the weapon, but I don't miss the way the concrete tears at the flesh on my stomach as he crawls on top of me and his hands find my throat again. Black spots dance across my vision and my lungs scream for air.
He might just kill me. This man is so strong and if I don't do something, I am going to die.
My hands scrabble across the floor searching for anything I can use. My fingers brush against something solid and rough—the brick. I wrap my hand around it telling myself internally that this is going to be okay. I'm going to be okay.
I can do this.
Using every bit of strength I have left, I slowly slide my left knee up along the concrete and I grit my teeth as I brace myself. Then in one hard thrust, I tighten my core and roll. It's not enough to toss him off, but it's enough to take him by surprise and allow me some wiggle room, and at the same time, I swing—hard.
The corner of the brick catches him in the temple, and I feel the impact reverberate through my arm. His eyes roll back and his grip on my throat goes slack. He falls sideways, and I scramble out from under him before he can recover and get up, but he's not out. If I let him just lie there, he'll get up and come after me.
So, wincing, and with my eyes clamped shut as hard as I can muster, I stand over him and bring the brick down on his forehead with both hands. His head lolls to the side after the sickening sound, and I drop the brick, sobbing as I cover my mouth and stare at him.
I may have just killed a man.
But it was him or me. And I’m not sure how I'll ever live with that choice, but I can't stand here in a guilt yo-yo. That tussle may have drawn attention, and I don't have the strength to fight another person.
I race up the stairs and out the door onto a dark landing and realize I'm in a church that is in horrible shape. Pews are overturned and broken with graffiti covering the walls. Windows are boarded up, and trash is scattered across the floor. Voices echo from somewhere deeper in the building, and I freeze.
There are more of them here and if I’m not careful, they'll catch me. But I spot a side door near the altar and run for it. My hands shake as I work the rusty bolt and shove it open, bursting through the doorway as muggy air hits my face, and I run as fast as I can, leaving the sound of shouting behind me. They know I'm gone, and I can't let them find out which way I went.
I turn a corner and push my legs harder. My breathing starts to come in wheezes and after several blocks at full speed, I feel myself slowing. I can't keep this up, not even in the cooler night air. I'm out of shape and not used to having to run for my life.
And when I finally slow to a walking pace, the stinging in my belly reminds me of just how close I came to that man choking me to death. I find a spot not directly in the glow of a streetlight, but with enough light to look at myself, and see the red stains blooming on my shirt. When I lift it, I see the marred flesh there, scraped almost raw by the cement floor.
I choke back a sob and lean against a dumpster. It smells like rotten food and sewage, but it's out of the way, and I think I'm far enough away from that church that if I rest for a moment, it will be okay.
So I crawl behind it, in the dark place where the shadows are deep, and I slowly lower my aching body to the ground. It's hard, and I'm chilly with so much sweat clinging to my skin, but for now I feel safe.
I curl my knees up and let the tears come quietly, resting my head on my knees and closing my eyes.
If Dimitri comes for me, he won't even know where to find me.
And if he searches for me, I'll be hiding.
I just want to go home.
25
DIMITRI
The church is dark when we pull up with three vehicles full of armed men. Yuri wasn't lying when he said I needed to be smart about this. So I brought Fyodor and Lev along with a dozen of our best soldiers. If the Kozlovs want a war, they're going to get one.
"Spread out," I order, checking my gun one more time. "Fyodor, take your team around the back. Lev, cover the east side. No one gets out of this building alive unless they're one of ours."
"What about the girl?" Fyodor adjusts his vest and the Velcro squelches in the silence. "If she's inside, we need to be careful about crossfire."
"She's the priority." I slam the magazine back into place and scowl at him. "But if anyone shoots at you, put them down. We'll sort out the bodies after."
The men move into position, and I give them two minutes to get set before approaching the front entrance. The doors are heavy wood and probably too thick to shoot through unless we use armor piercing rounds, but our goal isn't to sit out here in afirefight. I want in, and I want to get to Tatiana before anyone can harm her. As it stands, I may be out of time anyway.
I signal to two of my men, and they move forward with a battering ram to break down the door. It takes three hits before the lock gives way, and the doors burst open and gunfire erupts immediately from inside.
"Get down!" I drop behind a stone pillar as bullets tear through the doorway.
