Maria
My heart plummets and my knees tremble-I don’t like that sound.
“Mercy!” I burst into the natatorium, finding her floating in the pool. She has on my yellow two-piece, and a speaker blasts Taylor Swift. I shut the music off, and she glances toward me.
“Marie?” Mercy’s face clouds with confusion. “What’s going on? You look pale.”
At that moment, there’s another loud crash on the floor above us. Something, or somebody, has hit the floor hard enough to shake it. Wide-eyed, Mercy stares at me for answers. “Marie, what the fuck is going on?”
“Something is wrong!” I hiss. “We need to get out of here!”
Mercy swims to the pool’s edge and leaps out of the water, grabbing her beach towel. I take her hand and pull her toward the door. We still have time before whoever is upstairs decides to search the lower floors.
But footsteps pound the landing above us, and there is no time.
I grab Mercy, pulling her along the gray hallways that transform into a treacherous labyrinth.
“We’ll take the emergency stairs in the back,” I whisper. “But we need to move fast.”
I lead the way, ignoring the sounds of gunshots and screams. Mikhail said he would protect me and the baby, and I snapped at him. I see all this and wonder if my dad told my mother the same thing.
Footsteps quickly approach from behind us, but they’re too soft and careful to be an intruder. I look behind us as Dominika turns the corner, holding a cleaver from the kitchen. I stop long enough to sigh with relief.
Sternly, Dominika presses a finger to her lips, ordering me to be quiet and keep going. Our feet slap on the tiled floors, but I can hear heavier footsteps down the hallway. Panic threatens to trip me up, but I push it away as angry shouts come closer.
I glance over my shoulder, and Dominika has stopped running. Her gaze turns wild as she holds her body still. She wavers on her feet as if she’s battling her will.
“Go!” she whispers loudly. “I’ll buy you some time!”
“Dominika, no!” I whisper. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t argue with me, koshka! Get out of here while you still can,” she says. “For the baby.”
Mercy grabs my arm and yanks me along. I have to run, or I’ll stumble and fall to the floor. We continue running, but just as we round a far corner, we hear a gunshot behind us and then a scream. It’s Dominika’s. My heart plummets as my feet stop. I pull against Mercy’s tight hold, but she grabs me with both hands, forcing me not to run back.
“Marie, we have to keep going,” she says. “We can’t do anything for her.”
“I can’t leave her there!” My mind races as I try to think of something, anything, I can do. “Mercy, go ahead and find the emergency exit. I’ll catch up. I have to help her.”
“Like hell you-” she protests, but I cut her off.
“Go! I won’t be long,” I insist, turning back toward the sound of Dominika’s cries.
“No!” Mercy’s grip tightens on my arm, turning it white. “If she’s dying, she’s dying for you! Don’t make her efforts be in vain! Now come on!”
Mercy yanks me hard, and my feet start running again. But we’ve lost our lead, and whoever is behind us is closer now. We don’t have time to make it to the exit door, but we can still hide.
“Stay close,” I whisper, grabbing her hand and heading toward the studio door.
My fingers fumble with the key in the lock. I feel taunted, knowing safety is on the other side of that door. My fingers are shaking, and I fumble the key again.
“Maria, hurry,” Mercy urges, her voice trembling.
“I’m trying,” I hiss, cursing my sweaty hands. The door swings open, and we’re allowed into the sanctuary. The deadbolt turns easily, and I back away from the door, wondering how long we will be safe.
“God, this is all so messed up,” Mercy mumbles, watching the door. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”
“Me too,” I say softly, knowing that normal never existed for us.
“Hey,” she says, suddenly taking my hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through this together, right?” She smiles as if I never did anything to hurt her.
“Right,” I squeeze her hand. “We’re family, Mercy.”
Just as the words leave my lips, the heavy door shudders under a series of loud impacts. My heart nearly stops as I realize the door is being shot at from the other side. As I watch in horrified fascination, a perfect circle of bullet holes appears around the lock. Each bullet leaves a small dent and a tiny puff of smoke. There is nowhere to run as the door starts to buckle, and there’s an earsplittingwhamas it crashes to the floor.
Gunsyn steps into the room, his gun drawn and a nasty smirk set in grim determination.
“Marie, watch out!” Mercy’s warning comes a moment too late, and suddenly, I’m roughly yanked backward, my arms pinned behind my back.
“Gotcha,” his gruff voice growls in my ear.
“Let her go!” Mercy slaps at his arms. She’s always been the braver of us two, but even she can’t conceal the fear in her voice. Suddenly, she flies backward from the impact of Gunsyn’s fist.
I break free and rush over to Mercy, who’s had the wind knocked out of her. We’re surrounded by a group of armed men in black tactical gear. They spread out around the studio, all eyes on us as they take orders from Gunsyn.
“Thought you could hide from us, little bitch?” he sneers. “You should know better by now.”
“Leave us alone!” I shout. “And maybe Mikhail won’t make you suffer.”
“That’s not how this fairy tale ends,” he taunts, and the men laugh.
Alexander materializes from behind Gunsyn and grabs Mercy off the floor, his arm wrapped tightly around her neck. “Hello, beautiful,” he sneers, looking hungrily at her bikini-clad body.
“Let her go!” I shout, but Gunsyn grabs me by the arm instead. “Please,” I beg him. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Come on, Maria,” Gunsyn says calmly, “You didn’t think it would be this easy?” His lips curl into a sinister smile. “Fuck the pakhan and spy for your dad. He taught you well, you little whore.”
“My father was never the traitor!” I shout. “That’s you! And you’ll die for everything you’ve done.”
Gunsyn glares at me but says nothing. He looks around the room, eyeing the canvases, and I want to shout and tell him he has no right to look at Mikhail’s creations. He shakes his head and laughs at what he sees, muttering the words of thunder his breath.
“You’re coming with us,” he says, his tone showing no more patience. “Unless you want to see your cousin’s brains splattered all over these lovely paintings.”
“Maria, don’t,” Mercy whimpers. “Don’t go with them.”
But I don’t have a choice.
“All right,” I lower my gaze. “I’ll go with you.”
“Good girl.” Gunsyn smirks at me before his eyes turn toward Mercy, and he licks his lips. “And so are you, little prize.”
“Prize?” My stomach churns at the suggestion, and I feel sick with fear. “What are you going to do to her?”
“I’d spend less time worrying about her,” Gunsyn grins, “and a lot more time worrying about yourself.”
Rough fingers bind our hands behind us and force us down to the underground garage. A waiting van’s door opens and swallows us. Before either of us can protest, rags are shoved into our mouths and hoods are yanked down over our eyes.
A second later, the doors slam shut, and I wonder if my luck has finally run out.