Chapter 109
2416words
Night has become day from the fires of the chattering rifles. Each time a muzzle flashes I can see the face of the man firing it. Whether an enemy or one of my own boeviki, they all have the same feral expression.
Everyone is fighting for their life.
Including me.
"This way," I urge Camila, holding her by her wrist. We wasted enough time hovering inside the front door of Yannick's hideaway. I had to get my bearings, but I know we can't linger. As helpful as this chaos is, someone is bound to come and check on Yannick.
Not every one of his men is a corrupt cop, some are as loyal to him as my own brigadiers.
Camila tugs backwards. "Wait!"
"No time," I argue, stopping on the front step. She's gawking at the fighting behind me. Her eyes shine with flashes of guns going off, the sound loud in my skull. Katinka and Roman crouch behind her. They're just as afraid. "If we stay here, we'll be found, and then?—"
The wood of the door-frame explodes next to my ear. Splinters stab into my temple and cheek. Grunting, I lurch away, ducking inside the house with my body shielding Camila.
"Look out!" I warn, eyeballing the fighting over my shoulder. I wait for another shot. When it doesn't come, I feel safe enough to breathe. "That wasn't someone aiming at us," I explain, "it was an accident."
Katinka presses her lips together. She's pale to the point I'm wary she'll faint. "Who cares if it wasn't on purpose? A bullet is a bullet!"
"Mom is right," Camila agrees. "Is it even possible to run out there without getting hit?"
"I don't want to die," Roman says. He's not crying, his young face looks older, like what happened upstairs has aged him. There's a twinge of guilt running through me. I had no intention of ruining his innocence, but Roman was always destined for this hard life. One way or another, he's going to have to confront the reality of being born into the Bratva.
Gauging the fire-fight, I grit my teeth with a frustrated growl. We need to run, but dodging bullets is impossible! Holstering my gun—I refuse to let go of Camila with my other hand—I touch my earpiece.
"Mila, I've got them. All of them."
There's a static crackle. My pulse goes haywire the longer the silence stretches. Is she going to respond, or did something happen to her?
'Mila, come in."
"I hear you," Mila finally says.
Exhaling loudly, I peer through the open doorway again. "We're coming out the front, I need you to clear us a path!"
"On it!"
Hoisting my rifle once again, I tighten my hold on Camila. "Everything will be okay." I don't know if I'm trying to convince her or myself.
She squeezes me back, her hand warm and welcome. "I trust you," she says earnestly.
Calming myself with a few breaths, I square up with the door. "Everyone, stay close to me. Don't slow down, don't hesitate. Got it?"
When I hear their murmurs of agreement, I bound forward. My first steps are patient and careful. The instant we're exposed to the crisp night air, the shelter of the building's walls gone, I start to run.
Blood thrums in my eardrums like the crashing waves of the sea—nostalgic and familiar, a reminder of a simpler time in my life when all I had to worry about was if I'd hook my thumb while threading lures with my father on the docks.
Bullets crack overhead. The snow in front of us has been tamped down into mud and slush. The red blood of fallen bodies swirl in the mix of gray. Everywhere is the copper-penny scent of death.
"I see you!" Mila yells in my ear. 'On your left!"
Jerking sideways, I pull Camila out of the way, aiming my rifle at the cop about to jump on us. My muzzle flashes, casting light over his wretched scowl. Half his face vanishes in a spray of blood and bone. Katinka screams, but Camila and Roman don't make a sound. They're becoming numb to the violence. Or maybe they're still in shock.
Camila wipes at the blood splatter on her shirt. I give her a tug.
"Look at me." When she does, I say, "Don't think about it. Just grab my hand and look at my feet. That's all you have to do."
Jutting out her chin, she nods and drops her stare to my boots.
Another cop rushes at us—one of my men takes him out before he gets close. Two more have spotted me. The crack-crack of a pair of perfectly aimed bullets is the only warning before they both fall in a heap.
"Keep moving!" Mila's voice in my ear guides me. "Another hundred feet! I'm straight ahead of you!"
Hanging on to Camila with my rifle aimed forward, I lead us across the yard. The slick ground is only half the problem; I trip on the corpses that have piled up. I make a note of every one of my soldiers. I'll acknowledge their sacrifice properly when the time comes.
My chest is searing from exertion, but I keep pushing onward. Adrenaline is what keeps me moving at this point. That... and the knowledge I'm almost there. I've killed Yannick, rescued Camila and her mother, and ensured our future all in one stroke.
It doesn't matter if I'm exhausted—I'll run for another hundred miles if I have to.
A scream as ragged as the edge of an old saw-blade floods my ears. Camila's grip on my hand goes slack—she's not running anymore as she pulls me down to the ground.
Terror grips my heart before I look to see what's happened.
Camila is on her knees in the snow, one arm folded over her ribs. The blood is dark and bright and it's all I see. "Camila!" I cry.
Her mother, aghast at the sight of her daughter's injury, falls beside her. She tries to help Camila to her feet. Roman looks on in dazed confusion. The bullets haven't stopped darting around us. A cop stands nearby, his gun letting off steam in the cold air. His smug sneer is the only proof I need to know he's the one who's done this.
Diving to the ground, I yank Roman low to the ground, and then level my rifle. The cop shifts his aim to me, but he's too slow. My shot hits him square in the chest, and he crumples like a sack of potatoes from where he stands.
I drop my rifle, scooping Camila into my arms. "Camila, Camila!"
There's blood on her lips, her eyes are wide but unfocused. The only thing she's actively doing is clutching her stomach protectively.
Just like in my nightmares.
"Mila!" I roar. "Camila's been shot!"
"On my way!" she replies, so loudly the static crunches.
My rifle remains by my feet. I need both arms to lift Camila. Hoisting her close to my chest, I search the distance for a sign of Mila. I'm more vulnerable than ever.
"Follow me!" I snap, not looking to make sure that Katinka and Roman obey.
Sprinting around dead friends and foes, I bend forward, straining to make my legs pump faster. I've never run so fast in my life. The sound of their heavy breathing and stomping feet confirms that Katinka and Roman aren't far behind.
Mila, please, where are you? I glance down at Camila. Her face his white, like all her color has spilled onto the front of her clothing. Don't die, don't you dare fucking die!
Tires screech, high-beams blasting me in the face. The tell-tale red and blue lights on the top of the police car send me into a panic. Even if I had a free hand to draw a weapon, I left mine far behind.
"Asher!" Mila yells out the driver's side window.
"You stole a cop car?" I ask her in surprise.
She looks beyond me. Lifting her pistol, she fires off three quick shots. The cops who were trying to close in on us groan, gag, and fall. I didn't see them coming.
"Just get in," she shouts. "Before the rest of them figure it out!"
"You're a fucking angel." Katinka and Roman climb inside the car. I join them, clutching Camila in my lap in the backseat. Her chest rises and falls erratically, her breathing more tremor than air.
"Camila, do you hear me? Camila?" Carefully I remove her hand from where it clutches her ribs. The wound gushes—I flatten my palm on top with a hiss. "Go, Mila! Get us to a hospital now!'
She takes off, sending sludge everywhere as the car's tires spin. For an awful moment I think we're stuck in the mud. The vehicle jostles, twists, then we're tearing over the ground onto the cracked street. The gunfire continues in the distance, I can hear it long after we're around the curve in the road.
"There's a lot of blood," Katinka whispers, looking worriedly at me. Roman cranes his neck from the front passenger seat. His eyebrows contort tightly, his jaw shaking as he bites back tears. I think he's trying his best to be brave. Is it for himself, or for Camila?
Linking my fingers in Camila's with my other hand, I kiss her forehead. She's clammy, cold as ice. The only part of her that's warm is the endlessly seeping wound. Her lashes flutter like the wings of a moth struggling in a spider's web.
"Asher?" she whispers weakly.
"Yes, ptichka?" I fight back the hot pressure of devastated tears. "You made it. We're going to the hospital now."
Her smile takes a full five seconds to form. I hate how pale her lips are. "You'll take care of them, right?"
I tense up. "Take care of who?"
She swallows. "Mom and Roman. Someone has to make sure they're alright, they don't have anyone else."
"Don't," I scold her gently. "Don't you dare say your goodbyes right now."
Camila turns slightly, her eyes finally clearing enough to focus on mine. She lifts her hand, wincing as she does it. When she tries to reach my face, she starts to shake—I grip her hand, pressing it to my cheek, and she sighs in appreciation. "Thank you for everything."
"Don't," I whisper.
"You should show her the cabin," she says, her voice getting quieter, each word a struggle. "Mom would love to see that lake."
"Camila, stop talking like this is the end!"
"I love you, Asher. Through everything that happened... I never stopped. Not once. I need you to know that."
"Camila—"
"Tell me you believe me."
I breathe in shakily. There's something thick in my throat making my voice raspy. "I believe you."
She smiles sweetly before shutting her eyes.
"You're going to live, Camila. I love you and you're going to make it! You and our baby both. Okay? Do you hear me?"
She doesn't respond.
"Camila?" Katinka asks nervously.
I roar at Mila until my neck twinges from the force of my distress. "Can't you go any faster?"
"I'm going as fast as I can!" she assures me. "Almost there!"
The sirens are blaring. Nobody blocks us as we speed into the parking lot of the hospital, the entire vehicle jolting violently as Mila slamming on the brakes.
I move in a nightmarish haze. The world around me transforms into a blur, like someone has smeared Vaseline over my eyes. I carry Camila into the hospital, yelling over and over for a doctor, not stopping when my voice shatters into razors that slice my vocal cords apart.
A sea of scrubs rush at me. Two of them take Camila, setting her gently onto a stretcher. It's just like the one I was strapped to when Yannick's men kidnapped me. The sight of it sends a cold ball of dread sinking through my gut. I can't get a full breath, can't decide if I want to rip her away from these strangers or beg them to wheel her away.
I'm robbed of the choice when they begin to move her towards a set of double doors. I'm following, until a hand grips my shoulder, forcing me backwards. I nearly backhand them, recognizing Mila at the last second. Her face is grave, commanding me to stay.
'Let them help her," she explains. 'There's nothing you can do anymore."
Katinka and Roman gaze at the awful scene. A nurse approaches us, asking for information, trying to understand what's happened. When I don't answer, Katinka lifts her head higher, summoning the strength to speak to the woman.
Mila pulls at me again, encouraging me towards the sitting area. I don't budge, I'm too busy watching Camila, spread out and vulnerable, being swept out of my sight. She's nearly gone through the doors into the hallway when the machine attached to her that a doctor is wheeling alongside begins to screech.
The urgency in the air is suffocating. My hair stands on end, heat spreading up my back, into my skull, until I expect my head to split. She's flat lining. I told her she would be okay…
"No." I try to scream it, it comes out as a fragile croak. I collapse to the hard tiles on my hands and knees, crawling forward as the last of my energy leaks away.
"No... dear god... please, no..."
Hanging my head, I fill my chest with so much air that my lungs swell painfully. Everything hurts. I don't care—let the agony come. I'd die a thousand times if it meant Camila would live instead.
With the torturous squeal of the machine in my ears, I lift my eyes, hoping I'm wrong. Let me see her... let her sit up and smile and laugh. Let the love of my life be alright. Her—our—baby please...
PLEASE!
But instead, all I hear is the single piercing note of the flatline.
It's happening again.
I'm going to lose everything again.
I defeated Yannick but he still won.
With my hands in fists, I pound the tile, throwing my head back. The barrier that made my voice crumble is gone. That time, when I scream, the sound fills the hospital until it drowns out every other sound.
I scream helplessly until my throat goes numb, and then I scream some more.
I don't think I'll ever stop.
