CHAPTER SIXTEEN
401 Words
EVANGELINE
i woke to the sound of boots on gravel.
not one pair.
many.
Nikolai was already out of bed, grabbing the pistol from the drawer like he was born to do it in the dark.
“get dressed,” he whispered. “fast.”
i scrambled, heart pounding, my body still aching from the way he touched me hours ago. from the way he said my name like a prayer.
but now?
it was war.
the lights outside flickered.
then went black.
“they cut power,” he muttered, looking out the peephole. “three men. maybe four.”
“are they my father’s?”
he shook his head.
“ivanov’s.”
my stomach dropped.
before i could speak, the window shattered.
glass rained like knives.
Nikolai tackled me to the floor, covering my body with his. gun raised. breath ragged.
pop-pop.
gunfire. close. too close.
“stay behind the bed,” he ordered.
then he moved.
like a shadow with teeth.
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NIKOLAI
i counted three outside, two inside.
they weren’t quiet. amateurs with assault rifles and leather gloves like they were tryna look cool.
i shot the first one clean. chest. down.
the second one was slower.
i grabbed him by the collar and slammed his face into the wall.
“who sent you?”
he spit blood. “Vasin. Said to bring the girl.”
“dead or alive?”
his silence told me enough.
i didn’t hesitate.
crack.
his skull hit tile.
done.
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EVANGELINE
when it was over, the motel room was a mess.
bodies. glass. blood.
Nikolai stood in the center of it all, shirtless, cut across the side, chest heaving.
he looked like a god of war.
and he looked at me like i was the only thing worth fighting for.
i ran to him.
held his face. kissed him hard. didn’t care about the blood or the danger or the fact that we had to leave again.
"they’ll keep coming," i said.
"then we make a move first," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine.
"we go after Vasin."
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MEANWHILE- Antonio Moretti
the Ivanov attack wasn’t just an insult.
it was a declaration.
Antonio stood at the head of the table, his men silent.
“they tried to take my daughter,” he said. “they fired on my blood.”
he raised his glass.
“we go to war.”
- Writer
