Chapter 5 - Smoke and Shadows
The sudden blackout stole the air from my lungs.
"Viktor?" I called out, my voice cracking in the shadows.
"Emergency generators failed," Viktor hissed from somewhere near the entryway, his voice tight. "That is not a grid failure. Petrov has sliced the substation lines. They are breaching the service elevator."
A high-pitched whine echoed from the far end of the penthouse, followed by the muffled thud of an explosive breach.
"Move! Study! Now!" Viktor barked.
Panic surged through my veins like pure adrenaline. I scrambled to my feet, knocking over an antique end table in the dark. The sound of shattering porcelain was immediately swallowed by the thunderous roar of automatic gunfire erupting at the main foyer.
Sparks illuminated the grand foyer in blinding strobes. Viktor was already firing back, his rifle barking in controlled, deadly bursts. I fell to my hands and knees, crawling frantically across the polished hardwood toward the heavy double doors of Roman's private study.
Bullets whizzed through the open space, tearing through velvet curtains, shattering marble busts, and splintering the walls. The smell of sulfur and burning drywall filled the air, choking my throat.
*I'm going to die here,* the thought screamed in my mind. *I'm going to die over a wrong number.*
Just as my trembling fingers touched the brass handle of the study door, heavy combat boots stomped onto the hardwood behind me.
"Check the corners!" a rough voice shouted in Russian. "Petrov said take the girl alive! Kill everyone else!"
I froze, pressing myself flat against the cold baseboard. Footsteps approached rapidly. Through the dim haze of smoke, I saw the silhouette of a masked man holding a tactical shotgun, scanning the debris.
He paused. His flashlight beam cut through the smoke, slowly tracking across the floor—and stopped directly on my bare feet.
"Found her," the gunman grunted, raising his weapon. "Don't move, little girl, or—"
He never finished the sentence.
A sound like tearing thunder cracked through the broken panoramic window. The gunman’s head snapped backward as a crimson spray hit the wall behind him, and he collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
May you like
Outside on the rain-swept balcony stood a silhouette emerging from the storm, drenched in rain, holding a smoking combat rifle in one hand and radiating pure, unadulterated fury.
***