Chapter Eleven
Firing into the smoke, Olesya missed her target—Zakhar’s face. But while her brother’s shots also went wide, her rounds at least hit something: there was a grunt of pain, and the sound of the operative stumbling to the floor.
By now the smoke had smothered everything in front of her. Gunfire echoed through the corridor outside, followed by shouts from Marina and Nasira. Their sudden arrival had caught the fake Zaslon soldiers off guard—and just in time.
Olesya trained her pistol on the smoke where she’d last seen Zakhar, but he was gone.
Carefully she advanced through the smoke, collecting a dead operative’s carbine on the way, and shouted, ‘Call out!’
‘Sophia.’ She was right behind Olesya, right hand leaking blood, left hand gripping a pistol.
‘Jay.’ He was beside Sop
