“Last chance,” I tell Lorenzo. “Walk away. Leave the country. I’ll let you live if you just disappear.”
“How generous.” Lorenzo’s smile is cold. “But I think not. You see, I’ve spent too many years planning this. Too many years waiting for the perfect moment to take everything from you. And now that I have your wife, now that I can make you watch her die the way I made you watch Nicole’s life fall apart, I’m not about to walk away.”
That’s when the first shot rings out.
I don’t know who fires first.
One of Lorenzo’s men, maybe, or one of mine who’s too nervous to wait.
But suddenly the warehouse erupts into chaos.
Bullets ricochet off metal walls, and I’m moving on instinct, grabbing Sophia, who somehow miraculously managed to get the chains off her wrists, and pulling her behind a stack of shipping containers.
“Stay down!” I shout over the gunfire, but she’s already reaching for a gun on the ground next to one of Lorenzo’s men who’d been shot through the forehead, his eyes wide open and unblinking. My fierce, brave wife who refuses to be a victim.
I lean around the container and fire three shots, taking down one of Lorenzo’s men.
The body drops, and I feel nothing.
No remorse.
No satisfaction.
Just cold calculation as I assess the battlefield.
We’re outnumbered, but not by much.
The odds aren’t terrible, but they’re not great either.
And somewhere in this chaos, Lorenzo is moving, planning, waiting for his moment to strike.
“Mikhail!” Sophia’s shout makes me spin around just in time to see one of Lorenzo’s soldiers charging our position.
I fire twice, center mass, and he goes down hard.
“We need to move,” I tell her, grabbing her hand. “This position is too exposed.”
We run, keeping low, moving from cover to cover.
Around us, the battle rages.
A fire burns at the base of a support beam, spreading over discarded boxes and empty crates.
A bullet whizzes past my head, so close I feel the heat of it.
I return fire, forcing our attackers back.
Sophia stays close, her movements surprisingly fluid.
I’ve trained her well.
Maybe too well.
We reach a better position behind a concrete pillar, and I take a moment to assess.
Three of my men are down.
Maybe four.
