Brutal vows

Chapter 6: The Ghost in the Rain

The sweeping beam of a tactical flashlight cut through the dark pine needles just three feet above our heads. I held my breath, pressing my back so hard against the muddy wall of the ravine that the cold earth soaked straight through my silk dress. Alekov was a solid, motionless wall of heat over me. His left hand pressed me down into the shadows, while his right hand slowly drew a long, black tactical knife from his boot. The steel didn't reflect any light; it was as matte and dark as the night itself.

"I see tracks heading toward the ridge," a voice shouted from the top of the ravine. The footsteps squelched in the mud, moving dangerously close to the edge where we lay hidden.

Alekov didn't look up. He looked at me. In the pitch black, his eyes were wide and focused, tracking the frantic movement of my chest as I tried not to gasp for air. He placed two fingers gently against my lips—a silent command to stay completely still. Then, with the fluid grace of a phantom, he slipped away from me. The sudden loss of his body heat made me shiver instantly in the freezing rain.

He climbed the slippery slope of the ravine without making a single sound. I watched from the darkness below as a lone gunman stepped right to the edge, his flashlight illuminating the empty space where we had fallen just moments ago.

Before the shooter could raise his radio to alert the others, Alekov rose from the mud behind him like a vengeful shadow. His large hand clamped over the man's mouth, muffling his scream into a dull grunt, while his right hand drove the knife home with terrifying, practiced efficiency. There was a brief, desperate struggle, the sound of fabric rustling, and then the heavy thud of a body collapsing into the brush.

Alekov slid back down into the ravine, his chest heaving slightly, the flashlight from the dead guard now gripped in his hand. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight and commanding.

"The ridge is clear for now," he whispered against the howling wind. "But the rest of the squad heard the brush move. They are circling back. We run now, Elena. Keep your head down.”

He didn't wait for my legs to give out. He pulled me up from the wet ferns, his massive frame acting as a physical shield against the freezing mountain wind as we scrambled up the slick clay of the opposite slope. My bare feet bled where the sharp stones and broken twigs cut into my skin, but the sheer velocity of his stride dragged me forward, refusing to let me succumb to the hollow fatigue settling deep into my bones.

The forest around us was a living nightmare of howling wind and shifting shadows. Behind us, the deep, frantic barking of tracking dogs began to echo over the ridge, their guttural baying indicating that they had found our abandoned vehicle and were locking onto our fresh scent trail. The Bratva squad wouldn't stop until they verified our executions; they were hungry for the half-million-dollar bounty my father's rivals had placed on our heads.

"The secondary perimeter gate is less than five hundred yards through this thicket," Alekov growled over his shoulder, his fingers tightening around my wrist until it bruised. He was breathing heavily, his white shirt stained transparent with rain and dark mud. "When we clear the tree line, I will input the analog override sequence. You go straight through the door, Elena. Do not look back, and do not stop for any reason."

I nodded blindly through the downpour, my teeth chattering violently as the dark silhouette of the lead-shielded cabin finally broke through the gray river fog ahead. The old life I had lived behind the safe glass of Volkov Tower was completely gone, left behind in the blood-soaked mud of the forest floorboards. I was running for my life alongside a man who had broken every sacred blood oath to protect me, and as the red emergency lights of the safehouse came into view, I knew our war was just beginning.