Chapter 48

48

The library door exploded inward with a boom that made Freya flinch, wood splintering where it slammed into the wall.

Korolov whirled, his gun hand twitching.

Dark and formidable, Fox stormed into the room. She almost didn’t recognize him—gone was any trace of the cultured Duke she knew, superseded by a lethal predator. Only the arctic blue eyes in his blackened face and silver-threaded beard confirmed his identity as he rolled into a shooter’s crouch, his weapon already tracking.

Two shots split the air in rapid succession, so close together they were almost one. Korolov staggered backward, a grunt of pain escaping through his clenched teeth.

Blood soaked his sleeve and his gun hand spasmed open. The weapon clattered to the hardwood floor, spinning in a crimson spray. Before Korolov could retrieve it, Fox kicked it, sending it skittering beneath a bookcase. Blood dripped from Korolov’s useless fingers as he fought to control his ragged breathing.

His gaze ricocheted between Fox and Freya, his lips peeling back in a grimace. “This isn’t over.” He lurched backward toward the door on the opposite side of the room and stumbled against the wall before yanking the door open. He vanished, leaving only a splayed bloody handprint on the wall.

“Fuck.” Fox’s gaze snapped to Freya. “We need to get you out of here.”

He dropped to his knees beside her, slicing through the ties that bound her legs with a deadly looking knife.

“Korolov.” Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. “We can’t let him get away.”

Fox sheathed his knife. “You’re the mission, Freya. Not Korolov. Getting you to safety overrides everything else—including that bastard.” Fox pressed his comm. “Package secured, but Korolov’s in the wind,” he growled, then ran careful hands down her arms and legs, checking for injuries. His touch was firm as he tilted her chin up. “Are you hurt?”

A shuddery breath shook her. She managed a shaky negative. “I don’t think so.” She pointed to the shattered remains of the laptop against the wall. “The laptop.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “One less thing to worry about.”

He helped her to her feet, one firm hand supporting her elbow. “Can you walk?”

“I’m fine. I think.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard against the soaring panic in her throat. “Where’s Abe?”

Fox glanced at the door, his expression guarded. “He’s handling things.”

A cold weight settled in her stomach. She didn’t mask the tremor in her voice—didn’t care if it revealed everything she felt for Abe. “What does that mean? Is he okay? Tell me.”

Fox gripped her upper arms, urgent but not cruel. “Freya. We can’t stay here. We need to move. Now.”

“Please,” she whispered, tears hazing her vision. “Just tell me he’s okay.”

His grip gentled, understanding flickering across his face. “Listen to me, Freya. Abe can handle himself. I’ve seen him get out of far worse. But right now, my job is getting you out of here in one piece. That’s what he’d want. Do you understand?”

She sucked in air, her hands into damp knots, clinging to Fox’s certainty about Abe’s abilities. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good. We move fast, we move quiet. You stay behind me and do as I say. Clear?”

“Yes.” The calm precision in his voice took the edge off her racing pulse.

Fox released her arms to the stinging tingle of blood rushing back. But the prickles helped, grounding her. Fox had risked his life coming for her. She wouldn’t fall apart now.

“Come on.” He guided her to the library door, pressing her flat against the wall with one hand while the other held his weapon ready. “When I move, you move. Stay tight to my back. Clear?”

“Clear.”

Fox crouched, sweeping the corridor with his weapon.

Her gaze slid to Korolov’s escape route—bloody smears marked the door. The sight should have satisfied her, instead she felt hollow. The purpose of the archive had been to help people. He’d only wanted to twist it into a weapon for profit.

“Now.” Fox’s grip locked around her elbow. He hauled her into the hallway, a police siren’s howl echoing from somewhere beyond the walls.