57. Natalia

57

NATALIA

I'm face-down in the back of the Jeep when the explosions start.

Then come the gunshots.

I poke my head through the back window to see the compound is on fire. Smoke rises into the sky in thick, dark pillars.

I don't let myself think about how my son and Andrey are in there. I take deep, calming breaths. And as the last men disappear over the flattened gates, I open the hatch and jump out.

A second later, Misha does the same. I tip my head towards the gnarled entrance. A smoking car blocks the path.

"Do you know another way in?"

He nods and pulls me along the compound, staying as close to the walls as we can. It feels like we're running for ages. The compound seems to stretch on for miles, its high walls keeping everything out but the vultures.

Misha finally stops in front of an ivy-covered section of the wall and starts rooting through the creepers.

"There's a gate here," he explains without stopping his search. "I didn't even know it existed until the night I left… the night I was sent to spy on Andrey."

His movements get more and more frantic as he tries and fails to find the gate. The sounds of gunfire and screaming getting closer aren't helping his concentration.

Finally, he shoves aside a thick bundle of ivy to reveal a black metal gate. "Got it!"

Misha has to shove hard, but it screeches open by about a quarter-inch. Thankfully, the noise is drowned out by a wave of fresh gunshots.

A few more pushes and the gate is open wide enough for us to squeeze through. Before Misha can walk through, I grab his elbow. "You don't have to come with me."

He glowers. "You said I could. And I want to. Grigory is my brother."

I wish he was too scared to go. I wish he would stay in the car. But if he did, he wouldn't be Misha.

"Just stay close to me," I order. "And let me go first."

I have to duck low and wade through more creepers to get inside. The other side of the wall is completely deserted. It looks like Andrey has drawn all Nikolai's men to the front of the compound.

Which is a good thing, considering we're completely exposed right now. The closest structures are about thirty yards away— a small cul-de-sac of sheds spaced a few meters apart from one another.

"I know where we are." Misha points towards one of the sheds in the far distance. "That's where the youngest children were kept."

I'm already running in that direction, kicking up a cloud of sand behind me. This part of the compound is eerily silent compared with the bedlam brewing on the other side.

My heart constricts when I think about Andrey in the thick of that violence. But I can't let myself dwell for long.

My son needs me.

"Here!" Misha calls quietly. "Over here."

I join him behind one of the sheds, all of which have doors but no windows. "What is it?"

"I thought I saw someone over there," he whispers, pointing to a small shed two doors down from where we're hiding.

Then, like a sign from God, I hear it: a high-pitched cry that I recognize immediately.

"Grigory."

His cries are coming from the shed that Misha just pointed out. My heart is thrumming hard against my chest, but I've never been so sure of anything in my life. Come hell or high water, I'm getting Grigory out of here. Or I'll die trying.

"Misha, get ready."

We pull out our guns together, our eyes meeting at the same time.

"So do we just go in there?" he asks, his skin blotchy from the heat of the sun.

"No. I do."

His eyes bulge. "You want to go in there alone?"

"No one will be expecting me," I assure him. "In any case, I'm going to need you to drive one of Andrey's jeeps back to the little gate. That way, when I get Grigory, we'll have an exit strategy in place."

Misha's eyes narrow. "You're trying to get rid of me."

"I'm trying to get us all out of here alive."

"We don't know how many men are in there!" Misha says. "You might need backup!"

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Honey, if we're both taken, no one will know that we're here until it's too late. You need to get out of here."

"I can't leave you alone."

"They won't hurt me," I assure him. "Worst case, I'll be used as leverage, and you'll be on the outside, able to tell Andrey what happened. He'll come for us." Misha opens his mouth to protest but I talk over him. "Please, Misha. This is helping."

He doesn't look convinced, but we don't have a lot of other options. "O-okay, I'll go…"

I grab his face and press my lips against his forehead. "I love you."

He stumbles back and starts running. I don't have the luxury of watching him go. Flicking off the safety of my gun, I inch closer to the cabin. Grigory has stopped crying, but I already know which one he's in.

"I'm coming, baby," I mutter under my breath. "Mommy's coming."

I inch towards the entrance, trying to suss out how many men I'm dealing with.

As it turns out… just one.

The man has his back to the door. He's bending over a large wooden crate resting on top of rotten table legs. He moves a few inches to the left, and I have to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping.

My baby.

Through the tiny gaps in the slats of the crate, I see Grigory. And leaning over him…

Is his uncle.

Everything falls into hyper-focus. I've never felt steadier in my life. I raise my gun and point it right at Viktor.

One clean shot. That's all it would take.

My finger is on the trigger. I'm just about to squeeze when he whips around suddenly and hisses, "You."

Not so long ago, Katya introduced me to a handsome young man with a little more sleaze than charm.

Now, he's hardly human. His cheeks are hollow. His eyes have caved into their sockets, leaving nothing behind but dark, purpled circles. He's lost so much weight that the shirt on his back protrudes out in harsh points over his joints.

"Viktor."

"Come for the little brat, yeah?" he croaks, displaying a yellowing set of teeth. He reaches for Grigory, and I take my finger off the trigger.

"Don't touch him."

Ignoring me, he scoops my son up into his arms, almost upending the crate in the same move. I start to lunge forward.

"Stop!" he snarls. "Or I might accidentally drop the little fucker on his head."

"Don't do this," I beg with my heart in my throat.

"That's what I told my mudak of a brother when he was slicing my chest open!"

I can barely process what he's saying. My eyes are fastened on the bundle in his arms. Grigory gives a little gurgle as though he's trying to say hello.

"Shut up when I'm talking!" Viktor hisses at the baby.

I flinch. It's not just anger I can see on Viktor's face. It's something else entirely—something that borders on madness.

"Please, Viktor… don't hurt my baby."

He smiles with his teeth, though his eyes are empty of all emotion. "You're the one with the gun."

"I'll put it down."

But I don't move. There are options in front of me, but they're all bad.

"What are you waiting for?" he challenges.

I don't even try to negotiate. I set the gun down on the floor in front of me and kick it away. It spins into the corner of the shed, taking shelter in the shadows.

"There." I lift both hands in the air and show him my empty palms. "I'm unarmed. Now, please, put the baby down."

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "You know what? I will put the baby down. That'll leave my hands free for you."

I don't even register the threat. All I feel is relief as he turns and puts Grigory back in the crate. Finally, I can breathe.

Then Viktor steps in front of the crib, blocking Grigory from view as he approaches me, his lips curling with contempt. "My brother thinks he's won, but I'll get the last laugh. I always do."

He grabs me by the neck and walks me into the wall. Air whooshes out of me as my back hits the solid wood and his knee presses hard between my legs.

"You think this is winning?" I rasp, determined to keep him talking. "Forcing yourself on a defenseless woman?"

"No woman is defenseless," he growls scornfully. "Not you, not my useless dead wife, not?—"

"She's not dead," I interrupt. "Mila's far from dead. She's safe at home, in Leonty's arms."

The distraction works. Viktor's eyes swell, the veins in them popping red.

"Face it, Viktor. Try as you might, you will always be a loser. Second to your brother in everything."

His hand tightens around my neck. "You stupid whore, you don't know what you're talking about."

"No woman would ever choose you. Mila chose Leonty over you. Katya chose Shura over you?—"

His fingers leave my neck and he slams his hand over my mouth. His palms taste like sweat and ash and blood. "If Katya chose Shura, why the fuck did she come crawling back to me?"

"She was playing you, you moron. She only wanted to get information out of you!"

He releases me as though I've suddenly caught on fire. I try to get out from under his arms, but with a cry of rage, he flings me back against the wall.

My head bounces off the wood and stars dance in my eyes, but I refuse to drop. Grigory's startled cry gives me the strength I need to stay standing.

Viktor, on the other hand, looks like he doesn't hear a thing. "I'm going to kill you first," he spews. "Then I'm going to hunt Katya down. I'll save Mila for last. I want to savor her death."

The gun is several feet away, shining in the shadows like a beacon of hope. But Viktor is far closer to Grigory than I am to the gun. I can't risk it.

"Viktor!" a harsh voice snaps. His perfectly formed shadow creeps into the shed first. "What the fuck are you?—"

My eyes snap to Nikolai at the same time he notices me.

The grimace on his face twists into a sinister smile. "Well, well… What a surprise."

His hair is matted with sweat and blood soaks the front of his shirt. It's clear he's abandoned the fight to cash in his little insurance policy.

I'd make a run for Grigory, but there's a gun hanging casually in Nikolai's grasp. Viktor stands between us, his body hunched inward like he wants to disappear.

"I see you came for your son," Nikolai observes. "I thought we made ourselves clear: an heir for an heir."

"You have no heir, Nikolai," I goad.

He raises his eyebrows. "You're not aware then? The boy Andrey took months ago—Misha?—"

"You're referring to my son."

Confusion flashes across his face, trailed by understanding. He suppresses his surprise in favor of a weak smile. "How touching. You've taken the boy in as your own?"

"He had no one else."

"Except that he does," Nikolai counters, striding further into the shed. He passes right by Viktor as though he doesn't exist. "He has me . I'm his father."

"We can't choose who we're born to, but Misha chose his family." I raise my hand to my heart. " We are his parents."

The gleam of my ring catches the miniscule light in the shed. No one can miss it. Nikolai stares at the diamond with his teeth bared.

"One big, happy family," he snarls sarcastically. "Except for one thing: some loyalties can't be bought. Not with money or with kindness."

My arms prickle with goosebumps. "What are you trying to say?"

He licks his lips, his eyes narrowing. "My boy played his part well, but Misha's loyalties have always been to me. He's been fooling you from the start."