Page 45 of Ghost Ribbon

I was already on the move, drawing the pistol from my waistband. I fired twice toward the upper windows. One scream told me I had hit something. Blood sprayed from the broken glass above.

“Six, maybe seven,” I called out, voice calm even as I ducked behind a pillar. “They came in through the back loading doors.”

Dimitri shoved Ilya behind a stack of old crates, his broad frame completely covering him. “Stay down until we clear the first wave.”

“I throw knives better than both of you shoot!” Ilya protested, already pulling a set of throwing knives from his belt with blood-slick fingers. But Dimitri didn’t move, one arm braced across Ilya’s chest like a living wall. “Dima, I’m not a baby—”

“Shut up and throw from behind me if you’re going to throw,” Dimitri growled, firing his own pistol in bursts toward the approaching shadows. Two more men dropped at the entrance, blood blooming across their chests.

I moved fast, using the pillars and old machinery as cover. A man rushed me from the side swinging a crowbar. I sidestepped, caught his wrist, and slammed my elbow into his throat. He gagged. I drove my knee into his stomach, then slammed his head against the concrete pillar.

Another came from behind. I spun, pistol raised, and fired point-blank into his chest. The bullet tore through him. He staggered, blood bubbling from his mouth, and I finished him with a second shot to the head.

“Ilya, left side!” Dimitri barked.

Ilya didn’t need telling twice. Even while shielded, he moved like thunder. Three throwing knives left his fingers in rapid succession. Each one found its mark perfectly. One buried itself in a man’s eye, another in his throat, the third in the center of his chest.

“See?” Ilya yelled, already pulling more knives. “I’m fine!”

“Stay behind us,” I said as I fired again. Another man went down screaming, clutching a hole in his gut. Blood poured between his fingers as he crawled, until I put a bullet in the back of his skull.

The fight was brutal and close now. Bodies littered the floor.

Silence fell.

I stood in the middle of the carnage, chest heaving, blood dripping from my hands and the graze on my shoulder. Dimitri wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand, breathing hard. Ilya was still crouched behind the crates, knives gone but eyes bright with adrenaline.

“You good?” Dimitri asked Ilya first.

“I’m fine,” Ilya said, though his hands were shaking slightly from the rush. “You don’t have to be so protective.”

Dimitri pulled him up anyway, checking him quickly for injuries even though Ilya was clearly untouched.

It wasn’t that Ilya couldn’t fight. He could. But Dimitri and I had always been protective over him. If there was ever an attack he was never to be put at the front. It was just a rule we had. I scanned Ilya too, just to double-check, but he really was okay. I, however, had blood dripping down my arm. Not that I cared.

I checked my watch.

Fucking hell.

If I was late to pick up Marco, I was going to murder everyone.

I holstered my pistol, already moving toward the exit. Blood squelched under my boots.

“Clean this up,” I told Dimitri and Ilya without looking back. “I have somewhere to be.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He knew that look on my face.

Ilya called after me, voice still high with leftover adrenaline. “Wait! You’re hurt! Lex!”

I didn’t answer. I was already in my car.

Chapter 14 - Marco

I stood in the parking lot, shifting my weight from one foot to the other for what felt like the hundredth time. My fingers kept fidgeting with the strap of my backpack, twisting it around my wrist until the fabric dug into my skin. The academy grounds were almost empty now. Most of the students had already left hours ago, their fancy cars pulling out one by one while I stayed rooted to the same spot near the front gates, just like Alexei had told me to.

He said he would pick me up.

But he wasn’t here.