by Bella Rose
Chapter Twenty-One
Anya
It felt as though the world was ending. One second Antonin and one of Kirill Orlov’s men had been arguing. They were waving their guns in the air and screaming like spoiled children denied a toy. The next second the ceiling seemed to fall in. It started with the flutter of stray newspapers through a small hole I hadn’t noticed until that moment.
Next, there was a horrific crash and everything seemed to come apart. I watched as Yuri dove behind the bar. Antonin scattered like a rat just in time. A huge chunk of plaster came down right on top of the Orlov soldier’s head. His skull burst like a ripe melon. There was more blood, so much blood as he writhed on the floor beneath the construction waste.
The building shuddered. I could feel it in the post at my back. My hands were tied to the support beam. I heard a whimper and realized that it was me. Would I be crushed? I was sitting in the middle of it all. The entire place was caving in. Clouds of mold and drywall dust filled the air. I coughed and my eyes burned. I grabbed at the neck of my shirt with my teeth and tried to pull it up over my mouth. My lungs were screaming. It was as if I could get no air. There was no air in the room, only death.
Orlov men scattered only to be crushed beneath more falling beams and pieces of two-by-four. Then I saw something very odd. I glanced up not far from my spot and spotted a man falling with the debris. He was filthy, but I would have recognized that chiseled face anywhere.
Vasily!
I wanted to cry out, but I didn’t want Antonin to know that Vasily had come. I didn’t want to give away the ruse, if this was such a thing. What was Vasily thinking? He was going to be killed. I struggled with my hands, trying to get loose. I needed to go to Vasily. He was being buried. I saw the trash come down. It covered his form, the dust obscuring my view of his face. He would be lost forever in this ruined building.
“Get out of here!” Yuri appeared by my side. “The gas lines will burst! The place is going to go up.”
I smelled it then. The hiss of natural gas was accompanied by the acrid odor. He was right. One spark would set it all off. Worse. The sky opened up and began to pour rain. Apparently the moldy second floor had come from a leaky roof because it was pouring down on us now. Rivulets of poisonous dust ran everywhere.
Yuri was still jerking at my bonds with his knife. Finally my hands came free. “Go!” he told me.
“Not so damn fast!” Antonin grabbed my wrists and held on. “She comes with me!”
He was limping and there was a huge gash on his forehead. But only a few feet away Vasily might be dying in the wet remains of this cursed building. Antonin pointed his gun at Yuri.
Yuri put his hands up and muttered something in Russian.
“You’re coming with us,” Antonin announced. “And we’ll take your car.”
Antonin began dragging me toward the front door. Yuri went with us, Antonin’s gun still pointed at his head. We had made it nearly outside before I heard a crumbling noise behind us. Antonin whipped around, but he was too late. We hadn’t gotten out before Vasily came to my aid.
“Let her go!” Vasily shouted. “Get your useless ass out of here, or I’ll blow your head off. And believe me, I am so sick of you right now, I don’t care that I’ve known you almost all my life.”
Vasily was still half-buried in muck. It was in his hair and streaking his face with grime. But his gun was steady, and he looked mad as hell. Still, Antonin only laughed. I wondered if the events of the night had finally unhinged him.
“Go ahead!” Antonin raised his hands and gave Vasily a double dose of the middle finger. “You shoot and we all go up in flames.”
I saw a moment’s hesitation on Vasily’s face, but it was there so quickly I thought I might have imagined it. Then he shrugged. “You’ll still be dead!”
“So will your precious, Anya,” Antonin taunted.
We got another shrug from Vasily. “Not my Anya. If she and you both die, then the Romanov property is safe.”
What? I struggled not to open my mouth and scream with outrage. Was he serious? He didn’t care what happened to me? He was going to blow up what was left of this shithole and he didn’t care if I was hurt in the process? I didn’t understand. Vasily couldn’t be that indifferent to me. He couldn’t!
Antonin was looking a little less sure of himself. Both he and Yuri were now edging closer to the exit. They wanted out. That much was obvious. The place was done, and there was nothing to be said for it.
“Fine,” Vasily said cooly. “You lose.”
I heard the shot, but that was it. The ignition was instant and devastating. The blast went up from the center of the building. What was visible of the ceiling seemed to disintegrate. The blast flung me backward, through the door and out onto the pavement. I hit the ground and could not breathe. The pain was excruciating. The heat on my face was so intense I could feel the hair on my eyebrows singeing away. Even my eyelashes felt charred.
I lay on the ground, stunned and unable to move. If Vasily was still in that building, he had to be dead. My eyes began to water even though I’d thought all the moisture in my body had just been burned away.
Vasily
The whole world was on fire, and I was in the pit of hell. I had taken a calculated risk, and now I was afraid that I had lost the gamble and the whole war. Nothing existed for me in that moment but the flames belching high above my head. My ears burned as the gas burned off on the lower level of the bar. The scent of burning hair overcame everything else. My scalp was so hot I could not dream of touching it. I thought my brain might boil inside my head. I closed my eyes and covered my head as best I could. Most of my body was still buried. It was the only thing that saved my life.
But I was still alive. I had to breathe in and out and tell myself that over and over again just to believe it was true. I shoved a piece of plywood away from my head and stared around me at the carnage. As I had thought, the blast went up. The natural way for the release of pressure was through the path of least resistance. The damn ceiling was so useless that it was already gone.
The hiss of torrential rain on smoldering building materials was a stark counterpoint to the pulsing hammer of my head. I was shocked I could still hear. Everything in my world was topsy-turvy. I felt disoriented and very sore. Every muscle in my body hurt. Had I not been covered in drywall and wet newsprint, I would have been toast. As it was I could barely pull myself out of the muck toward safety.
I grasped and crawled, driving pieces of wood and gypsum beneath my nails and into my hands as I struggled to gain traction in the mess that had once been a favorite hangout of the Orlovs. The Orlovs, a good number of whom were still buried below me in the mess. It was a good chance that they were all dead. The rest of them would probably blame me, but right now I didn’t give a shit. It didn’t matter.
The walls were still burning. The spit and hiss of rain pattering down on the crackling fire told me that I was still alive. I had to get to the front door. I had to see if my plan had paid off. My intention was to blow Anya right out of the building while killing Yuri and Antonin, but I had no way of knowing if I’d been successful or not. I could not even admit the possibility that Anya had been seriously hurt by my actions.
My urgency made me struggle harder. I pulled faster and finally managed to grab hold of what had once been a barstool. I used it to lever myself to my feet. My legs were covered in muck, and there was so much wet drywall dust in my boots that I was sure my feet would never come out.
“Anya.” I whispered it over and over again. She was going to be okay. I knew it.
The front doors were still there, although most of what had surrounded them was now ash. I saw a man twisted nearly in half. What remained of his clothes told me it was Yuri. He could not possibly be alive. And if he was, he would have been begging me to end it.
Where was Antonin? He should have been right next to Yuri. And where was Anya? She should have been right here. I was standing in the place wher
e she should have landed. In fact, she had landed here. There was a scorch mark on the pavement. I found one of her shoes. It was smoking, the sole partially melted.
“No,” I whispered hoarsely. My lungs felt seared both by the gypsum dust and the smoke. “He has her. He fucking has her!”
They could not have gone far. I sucked in a deep breath and straightened my broken body. I was going to keep looking until I was dead. That was all there was to it. I would never give up. I gazed at the scene and listened to the sirens coming closer and closer. It was time to leave. I had no time for emergency personnel. Not now.
I limped off, dragging my injured right leg just slightly behind me. My hip wasn’t working correctly. It felt like there was something sticking out of my leg. I groped down over my thigh and realized that there was a big piece of wood lodged in the muscle of my leg just below my hip joint. There was not time to pull it out now. Not when I might bleed. So I would limp and forget about it. I forced myself to think past the sharp stab of each step I took. That didn’t matter. Only Anya mattered now.
I passed two cars, one of them Antonin’s. There was a piece of the bar itself embedded in Antonin’s front windshield. Obviously he couldn’t have gone by car. He would probably need help. Could he possibly make it to an emergency room somewhere? I searched my brain for the nearest hospital and headed in that direction.
The streets were dark. The rain was coming down in sheets that froze me in my tracks as I struggled to walk. Still I kept going. This dogged pursuit was never going to end. It felt as though we had been going for hours when it had only been minutes. Then I saw a figure ahead. At first my exhaustion played tricks on my mind. It was a two-headed creature, a hunchbacked monster skulking through the streets. Then I realized that I was seeing Antonin dragging Anya along behind him. I had found them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Anya
Why wouldn’t this man die? It was inconceivable that Antonin was still moving. Yet if anything, the injuries made him just that much more dangerous. There was something unhinged about him. He clutched my arm in his right hand. He was dragging me. Or maybe I was dragging him. There was so much blood. It poured from a wound on his forehead and seeped from the raw burns on his arms and hands. My skin was sticky with his blood as it mingled with my own. I just wanted this night to be over. I just wanted it to end.
“Antonin, I can’t go any further,” I insisted.
He yanked me forward, heading toward a destination that existed only in his crazed mind. “Shut up! This is all your fault. All of it!”
I should be able to get away. He was weak. Why was I still here?
The thought hit me hard. I stopped walking. His hand jerked me forward as though he had come to the end of a tether, but I didn’t move. I planted my feet and remained still. His grip could not hold up to the blood smearing my arm. His hand slipped and he let go. I watched him stumble forward just as I turned around and bolted.
I knew he had a gun. He’d brandished it at me when we’d left the burning pile of rubble that had once been a bar. Now I heard it click. He struggled a little, the sound not as smooth as what I was used to.
My whole body cringed inward as I waited. I was running, but there was no place to hide out here in the open street. He was going to shoot me in the back. I would die. And the only thing I could think was that it would finally be over.
My lungs burned and my eyes watered as I struggled to run. My knees weren’t working right, and my side was on fire. I couldn’t see what was wrong in this darkness. I could not even see where I was running.
“Stop!” Antonin shouted. His voice was hoarse and gravelly. “I’ll shoot you, Anya! I will kill you dead right here.”
I felt like I was sprinting, and yet I’d only managed to cover a few feet of ground as I hobbled away. It was agonizing. How could I save myself when I could hardly stand on my own two feet?
Something heavy weighed against my legs and dragged me to the ground. I struggled desperately, trying to stay on my feet. I managed to look down but could only stare dumbly at Antonin as he held on tight. Had he actually flung himself at my feet?
I stumbled. Then I fell heavily to the cement. What was probably the only noninjured bit of skin on my elbow scraped across the blacktop. The new pain brought tears to my eyes. I was done. I could not move any farther, and nobody was going to make me. I hurt so badly. Even my eyes were painfully swollen with smoke and grit. Whatever the outcome, I did not care anymore.
“Get up!” Antonin was smacking my legs, but his blows were weak and ineffectual. “Get up and keep moving!”
I didn’t bother to point out that he was on the ground himself. He was so angry. I could feel it in every word he said. I did not know what to do, but I knew what I could not do. I could not move. It was beyond my power to do so. So I stared at him in silence and waited to see what would happen.
“You want to die?”
He rolled and squirmed as he dragged his gun from underneath him. Grabbing my shirt, he yanked me closer. Then he placed the barrel of the weapon against my temple and sneered into my face. I had never hated another human being as much as I hated him in that moment.
“Do you really want to die, you stupid bitch?”
I didn’t answer. It was a stupid question. Of course I didn’t want to die. I was just too tired to fight anymore. It is shocking how quickly things go through your mind when you truly think that your life is over. It was so fast. But not like a spool of memories or a highlight reel or anything. It was more that I thought of all the people in my life. I thought of how we were connected. I thought of the missed opportunities to connect with my father. I thought of Daisy and how I’d never told her that I was so incredibly grateful for her friendship. And mostly I thought about Vasily.
I thought about how insignificant lies were when the truth involved death. Lies could be confessed and unraveled. They could be forgiven. He had not been forthright with me, but I already knew he’d been asked to keep his identity secret. Perhaps I hadn’t been giving him enough credit. Going against my father’s edicts was no small feat. He was a good man. I think I knew that. Or maybe it was the brush with death that was making me melancholy. But whatever the reason, I could not stop thinking that I should have told him that I loved him. Although maybe I should have started by admitting it to myself.
Antonin was beating on my chest. I think he was trying to get a response. Maybe he thought I was already dead. I felt him drop the gun. I felt it cool and deadly against my side. I moved my hand just a fraction of an inch, far enough to grasp the butt of the weapon. The dull thud of his hands hitting my body resonated throughout my head until he had drowned out my heartbeat. I was going to die if I didn’t do something right now.
Vasily
Antonin was going to kill her! I shambled forward as quickly as I could. What was he doing? He was beating her chest as though he thought he could force a response from her broken body. She was in such bad shape! Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he had killed her. The blood. God! The blood was everywhere. It coated her arms and legs. Her clothing was burned away in places, and her skin was puckered and discolored with burns and lacerations. My gamble had been too much! I had lost and I was going to hate myself forever for what I had done.
“Stop!” I shouted at Antonin, but my voice only came out as a husky sound barely louder than a stage whisper.
I staggered closer, finally giving up and flinging myself at Antonin. My body connected with his, and the resulting pain was breathtaking. I shoved that aside. It didn’t matter. I rolled him off Anya and let my entire body weight rest on top of his.
“Leave her alone!” I ordered him. “You’ve done enough. Don’t you fucking think you’ve done enough?”
“It was mine!” Antonin shoved at me but didn’t have the strength to push me away. “It should have all been mine. Why did you have to get in the way?”
“Why was it yours? Why?” I didn’t understand. It made no sense. “You’re just a
n Avtoritet! You’re no better than five different men in the Bratva! You’re no better than me!”
“Boris is my father!”
The words stunned me. I could not speak. I could not move. How?
He must have seen the words on my face. “His name was on my birth records in Russia. My mother named him as my father!”
“Does he know?” But even as I managed to spit the words through my cracked lips, I knew the answer. Boris would have to know. He had brought Antonin over to the US. He had all the original records. But it made no sense. The man had no son. Why would he not claim Antonin as his own so that he could have an heir?
Antonin smirked. “He told me once that I should be more like you.”
Antonin suddenly shoved his hips upward. The move knocked me off-balance. I was barely hanging on to my position on top of him anyway. I rolled to the side and he rolled with me. I saw the knife but couldn’t deflect it in time. The weapon sank into my shoulder. The scrape of metal against my bone was excruciating. I groaned and wrenched away. The move pulled the blade free but gave Antonin another chance to pounce. He raised his hand and tried to stab me again. This time the blade never made it.
A gunshot shattered the night. It echoed off the surrounding buildings and made my ears ring. I saw Antonin crumple and then fall over. He collapsed to the pavement by my side and was still. I knew he was dead even before I laid my fingers over his neck to check his pulse.
“I’m sorry,” Anya sobbed. “I had to. I had to.”
I struggled toward her, leaving Antonin behind. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. We were rolling about in the wet street, but I didn’t care. None of that mattered. She was alive. I had been so afraid that she was dead, but she wasn’t. Anything else I could deal with.