Page 77 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

"You're going to get yourself killed, Em."

"Then I get killed," I say defiantly. "I will not leave my son in this house. I will not be the mother who ran."

Another burst of gunfire tears through the hallway behind us and we both drop to the floor. Bullets drive through the wall above our heads and plaster showers my back. Batya covers my body with his and I can feel him trembling as the shooting continues.

"Please, Em," he begs into my ear. "Please come with me. We can come back for the boy."

"You don't come back from something like this," I tell him, pushing his weight off me and getting to my knees. "You run and you keep running and you never see the people you left behind again. I won't do that to my son."

I get to my feet and run toward the staircase with Lex's screaming pulling me forward through the smoke and the noise. Behind me I hear Batya calling my name, but I don't turn around. I will get to Lex or I will die trying. There's no third option.

28

RASHID

The smoke's so thick I can't see my own hands. I lie flat on the concrete with my face pressed to the floor trying to breathe, but every breath pulls in more poison. My lungs burn like they're filling with acid.

The fire roars behind me and the heat on my back is blistering me. My shirt is starting to melt against my skin. I try to call for Devid, but my voice comes out as a croak and I can't stop coughing long enough to form a word.

Someone grabs the back of my collar and drags me. My knees scrape across the concrete, and I feel debris under my legs and broken glass cutting through my pants. But I can't fight it; I don't have the strength to fight anything right now. Devid's voice comes through the smoke above me, shouting my name, and his hand hauls me backward across the floor toward a section of wall where the air is marginally clearer.

"Stay with me, Rashid," he shouts, dragging me harder. "Stay with me. Do not close your eyes."

My head hits something hard, and the pain snaps through the fog enough for me to realize Devid is pulling me toward a window on the west wall. I didn't even know there was a window on the west wall. The fire hasn't reached this corner yet but it's coming, eating through the shelving behind us, roaring louder than anything I've ever heard.

"Come on, hang with me, boss..." Devid drops my collar and I hear him kicking at something, metal on metal, and then glass shatters and cold air rushes in.

The contrast with the heat is so sharp it feels like being slapped, but it's refreshing. The air feels clean and pure, making me cough out the wretched smoke I've been inhaling for too long. Then he grabs me under both arms and hauls me up onto the window ledge. I get one leg over the frame and then the other ,and then I'm falling. I hit the ground on my side, knocking the last of the air out of my lungs, but the air I suck back in is cleaner. It feels like drinking water after days in a desert.

Devid lands beside me and rolls onto his knees, coughing so hard his whole body convulses. He saved my life, though all I can manage to do is roll over and curl into a ball as my body expels toxins.

The warehouse groans and a section of the roof collapses inward, sending a column of sparks and flame up into the night sky. Then heat pushes us back even from out here and I scramble to my feet, grabbing Devid's arm and pulling him away from the building as more of the roof gives way.

"Fuck... come on," I choke out, still coughing. But we're on our feet moving at least, putting distance between us and the mess.

We make it to the car before Devid collapses, falling onto the hood, bracing himself as he tries to get his breathing under control. His face is black with soot and there's a burn on his forearm where his jacket sleeve melted through. I lean against the passenger door and cough until my throat feels raw and I can taste blood in the back of my mouth.

"They think we're still in there," I tell Devid, struggling to make my stinging eyes focus as I scan the parking lot. I hear sirens in the distance and know someone has called the fire department in. "This wasn’t just to get to me.They're planning something."

Devid looks at me through watering eyes, and I watch the realization hit him the same way it hit me while I was being dragged across that floor. The warehouse attack, the ambush, the fire—none of it was about killing us. It was about clearing the path to my house so Gusev could get to Oleg without me standing in his way.

"They're going for Rostov," Devid says, pushing off the hood and moving toward the driver's side door. "They're gonna kill him."

The only thing that comes to mind is Emory, holed up in that house where her father is… but how the fuck did they learn where? My house is kept secret from everyone. Guards watch my movements to make sure I'm not followed, and I have strict security.

"Get us home," I tell him, climbing into the passenger seat as he starts the engine. "Drive as fast as this car will go, and do not stop for anything."

Devid throws the car into gear and we tear away from the burning warehouse. The tires scream on the wet pavement as he takes the first corner, and the back end swings out before hecorrects it and shoots down the river road. I pull my phone and try calling the house, but the line rings and rings and nobody picks up. I try Krispin and get nothing, then the main security line, but it goes straight to a dead tone.

This is terrifying. No one answering me means something catastrophic has happened. It means they're already at my house, with my son.

"Nobody's answering," I tell Devid. "Drive faster." I pat myself down, realizing I don't even have a weapon now. Mine must be on the floor of that warehouse, melting in that heat, and David nods at the glove box.

"Take my backup," he grunts, running a red light without slowing down.

I reach into his glovebox to find his Makarov fully loaded and ready, and I chamber a round so I'm prepared as soon as this car stops. Gusev thinks he's going to get away with this, but I will slaughter every last person in this city if he touches my son or the woman I love?—

The word feels strange, even in my thoughts, but the fact that it comes to mind instantly is just proof of how true it is.