39
Sage
No,no,no!
What was happening?
Adrenaline flooded my veins as I slammed my palms against the cold steel door. “Brandon!” I yelled before pounding harder.
If he replied, I couldn’t hear it over the incessant, earsplitting alarm. Dante must’ve activated a panic switch. There was no chance of a discreet escape now. Our only saving grace was that most of the guards were dealing with Shep’s diversion at the perimeter. It would buy us time, but not much.
My heart thundered so hard I thought it might explode. But I had to focus. Leaving without Brandon wasn’t an option.
I laid my pistol on the floor and raced to the nearest alcove, where a medieval broadsword rested on support hooks. It was a hefty blade, but I pulled it down along with a steel knight’s helmet. Wedging the tip of the sword under the door and the helmet beneath the flat of the blade, I put all my weight on the handle and tried to lever the door up. It didn’t budge.
“Come on. Come on!”
Muscles straining, I pushed against the pommel until my arms cramped. It was no use.
Wait! I had a cell phone and could call Brandon. As I went to unlock it, a message arrived. It contained only one word.
Run.
What? No way! I wouldn’t abandon him. Every cell in my body demanded I stay and help, not flee. I swallowed thickly against the dryness in my mouth.
Think, Sage.The relentless screeching of the alarm made it almost impossible.
When I came up with nothing, a cold sweat broke across my skin. We were screwed. When they found Brandon trapped inside, he’d try to fight his way out. He’d never make it out alive. They’d kill him.
It was happening. My worst fears were becoming a reality. I’d fallen for Brandon so damn hard, and now he was going to die because of me. Why had I dragged him into this? I should’ve realized how dangerous my plan for retribution would turn out to be. But Brandon had been so confident, and I’d believed him. Tears stung my eyes. I was powerless to save him. I should’ve agreed to his original plan. Just let Brandon kill Dante and—
A heavy body shoved into me from behind, and a huge arm clamped around my neck.
“Hello, little assassin.” The Russian accent turned my blood to ice. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
I bucked and clawed at Maxim’s solid arm, desperate to break free. He tightened his hold until I struggled to draw breath. “Stop fighting me, or I will snap your pretty neck like a twig.”
Resisting the instinct to tear his forearm from my throat, I surrendered, deciding I needed to collect my wits if I had any hope of getting away from the Russian.
He relaxed his grip, and I sucked in deep breaths.
“Where is your friend?” he asked calmly, as if there weren’t an alarm shrieking through the residence.
I panted while inching one hand past my hip toward the blade strapped to my thigh. “What friend?”
Maxim’s lips moved to my ear. His hot breath made my skin crawl. “It does not matter. He will be your dead friend soon.”
My fingers caressed cool metal as they curled around the slender handle of the dagger. “Not if I kill you first.”
I swung fast and stabbed the blade into his robust thigh. The Russian growled but didn’t release me. He barely flinched. What kind of abomination was he?
I yanked the knife free and slashed it across the forearm constricting my throat. With a grunt, Maxim loosened his hold. I spun to face the behemoth. The clown mask was gone. His face wasn’t much better to look at. Crimson stained his white shirt. The shredded sleeve revealed the tattoo that had haunted my dreams for three years. Except now, the attacking eagle dripped blood onto the floor.
A horrifying grin twisted the Russian’s features as if the injuries were mere scratches. “I like a woman with fight in her. It excites me. I like to play rough, too.”
Maxim had a pistol. He could’ve shot me already. Yet the look in his eye told me he’d enjoy murdering me with his bare hands. That he wanted to feel the life drain from my body.
Not today, you sick bastard.