“Sir, they demanded to see you,” the man says.
“And you just let them in?” Illyin snaps.
“It was better than having them shoot their way in,” the man argues.
“I only came here to talk Illyin,” I call out loudly, raising my hands to show him that I am not holding a weapon. He rounds the corner, his eyes on me right away and his fists clenched at his sides. Behind him, a group of men follows closely, weapons in hand, not showing the same etiquette that I am.
“Sir,” Yaroslav mutters.
“Stay neutral,” I whisper.
Illyin marches towards me, bringing me and my men to a stop beneath the high ceiling of the entrance foyer.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Anton Radev? I should gut you where you stand for what you did,” he snarls at me.
“As I said, I came to talk.” My voice is even and calm, even though my heart is pounding like a thousand drums. “Something you could have allowed your sister the chance to do without trying to drag her off against her will,” I add to make a point.
“What the fuck do you know about how I should handle my fucking sister!” he screams in fury, spit spraying from his mouth as he throws his words at me in accusation.
I turn my head to the side and sigh softly.
“I know she is an adult and capable of making her own choices,” I say, looking back at him.
“Is that why you kidnapped her? Because you’re such an amazing, good, kind person?” he snaps.
“Fair. Yes. But things have changed, and if give me the chance to explain, we can talk about a solution for—”
“There are no fucking solutions that don’t involve you dying, Anton Radev!” he snaps, raising his gun.
My men jump into action.
Yaroslav grabs the back of my Kevlar vest, hidden beneath my shirt. He pulls me backward towards the exit as gunfire breaks out around me.
Right where I was standing a second ago, the tiles explode as a bullet smashes into them.
“Illyin!” I scream in anger as Yaroslav manages to pull me safely behind a wall. He shoves me hard towards the exit.
My men form a barrier around me as we exit the building.
Only two shots are fired with purpose from their weapons: one in the leg of a guard blocking our way, the other in the arm of a man about to shoot me.
All the other bullets that come from my men’s weapons are deterrents, cover fire to help us escape.
I have no fucking idea how we manage to get out of there without killing anyone or sustaining any serious injuries, but we manage.
Only just.
By the skin of our teeth.
Yaroslav yells, “Drive!” and the man waiting in the car is already pressing his foot against the accelerator as my last man falls into the van.
Breathing heavily, I close my eyes for a second. I don’t hear a car coming after us. I don’t hear a chase.
“Is anyone hit?” I ask, letting my breath out slowly.
“I got hit in the Kevlar.”
“Me too.”
