What the fuck?
I get up just as Victor raises his hands, speaking to the man quickly, but then I spot it. A knife against Victor’s neck.
Chapter 23
Sevastyan
Ishoottomyfeet, the delicious meal forgotten as I watch Victor’s body language change. He’s trapped, but while the men who snuck into our home under the guise of renovators aren’t here for him, they will not hesitate to use him against me. No matter how much he assures them he doesn’t know where I went, they’ll try to torture him for information.
Sweat beads on my back, cold as ice, but despite knowing I need to intervene before they attempt to pry my location out of Victor, an eerie calm washes over me. This time, I will not fail.
This time, I will keep us both safe.
This home was designed to keep out intruders. Maybe it’s time to use it to its full potential.
Thinking on my feet, I switch on the defence systems and lean forward, trying to make sure I understand where the two other bastards are. Once I establish their location, a wide grin emerges on my face, because beyond the corner is a trap I’d believed to be lost to me, but its sorry state might just give me the advantage I need.
I open the floor, watching the lid roll over the rotting corpse neither I nor Victor bothered to remove from the spikes. It looks disgusting even in black and white. I don’t want to imagine how it must smell now that the compartment is no longer sealed.
I get a kick out of the terrified faces, as the two back away, mouths wide open, yelling something. Only then they let me nudge them right into my actual trap.
As soon as they turn the corner, I press the button and a barrage of metal bolts shoots at them from tiny crevices in the wall. The same kind that injured Victor’s leg. One of them goes through the first goon’s head, so that’s a pretty merciful death, while the other intruder ends up on the floor from the impact of the bolts piercing his body. He’s still alive, crawling desperately, but a bolt’s gone through his neck. It won’t be long now, and I have bigger fish to fry.
The goon who holds his knife to my Victor’s head must have heard the screams, because he’s shouting now, arm tight around my man’s throat as he hesitates, unsure whether he should check what’s happened to his friends, stand his ground, or run.
He would be wise to do the latter, but the people who come after me are never smart enough to see their limitations. I grab my Glock from its place on the wall and quickly check if it’s loaded, because I’m so fucking done with this bullshit. It’s one thing when the assassins target me, but they should know better than to put their dirty paws on my partner.
Victor is a pure soul, and while he was comfortable enough dealing with bodies, he is a stranger to violence. I hear his cries as soon as I leave my hiding spot. I will have no mercy for this last fucker.
“No, please! I don’t know what you’re talking about. Take anything you want, but I’m just a housekeeper!”
Not giving me away even now, bless his soul.
He would eventually break under torture, because few men wouldn’t, but I won’t let it come to that.
“Do you take me for an idiot?” the bastard roars, a hysterical edge to his voice. “Whatever he’s paying you, it’s not worth the pain I’m going to put you through if you don’t start talking!”
I run up the stairs, toward the noise, and yet, the odor of rot is so intense I can feel it coating the inside of my lungs. That’s a concern for later.
After taking a glimpse at the two fallen goons, I step into one of the spare rooms and grab the edge of a large painting, which secretly doubles as a handle. The wall is movable here, and I step straight into an adjacent room, which will take me where I want to be.
My heart is racing, but my hand remains steadier than ever.
I don’t hesitate. There’s no room for mistakes when a gun is inches from Victor. If I give the intruder a few seconds too many, he will use my beloved as a hostage.
Just as the fake carpenter turns his head, I step through a gap between movable walls and press the barrel of my gun against it.
A loud bang resonates in the room, Victor falls back with a scream, and bits of gray matter land on the wall. The intruder collapses when I’m just a few paces away from Victor.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” I whisper softly, pulling him to my chest while the fresh blood drizzles down the wall. I’m so pumped with adrenaline I hardly register pain in my hand, but now it comes back in the trigger finger. I ignore it after a deep breath. Holding Victor is more important.
He grips me with a stifled sob. “Oh God, Seva. There’s two more of them. I heard screams. Are they—”
“Yes, I handled it.”
Victor is shaking nevertheless. “He wanted to know where you are, but I wouldn’t tell him.”
“I know.” I put the Glock down on the side table and cup his tear-stained face, wiping off the moisture with my thumbs. “We take care of each other. This won’t happen again.”
