Page 283 of Sexting His Assistant

My body moves before I think. “Luka!” I scream. “Left!”

Luka drops instantly.

Oleg fires.

The bullet passes over Luka’s shoulder and hits the chair behind me.

I scream as wood splinters near my ear.

Luka rolls, comes up on one knee, and fires.

One shot.

Oleg jerks backward. His gun falls from his hand. He hits the concrete hard and does not get up.

For half a second, I just stare.

Oleg is dead.

The man who did all this is dead. But Kirill is still moving.

He comes out from behind the pallets, gun raised at Luka while Luka is turned toward Oleg.

Misha sees him first. “No,” Misha rasps.

He lifts his stolen gun with a shaking hand.

Kirill fires. Misha fires too.

Kirill’s shot goes wild, tearing into the metal beam above Luka.

Misha’s shot hits Kirill in the chest.

Kirill staggers back, eyes wide, and collapses against the pallets before sliding to the floor.

Misha stays upright for one impossible second. Then his knees buckle.

“Misha!” I scream.

Luka cuts the last rope at my ankle.

I fall forward out of the chair, but he catches me before I hit the floor. I push against him. “Misha.”

“Nina, stay down.”

“No.”

I crawl the few feet before I can stand properly. My knees hit concrete. My palms sting. I don’t care.

Misha is on his side, breathing shallowly.

Too shallow. Blood spreads under him.

I press my hands to his shirt, not even knowing where to push because there is too much blood and too many wounds.

“Misha,” I say. “Look at me. Look at me.”

His eyes flutter. “Bossy,” he mutters.