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I drop behind the table and grab the fallen pistol as Rudenko shoots. The bullet tears through my sleeve and strikes the painted window behind me.

Belov drags Vera toward the fire door, keeping her between himself and the captains. The guard follows and reaches for his pistol, but the loose holster strap catches beneath his thumb.

Vera drives the heel of her shoe into Belov’s shin and throws her head back into his face. His arm loosens, and she twists away from the muzzle, dropping onto one knee.

The table jumps when a rifle bullet tears through its edge, sending Blacklist files across the floor before it strikes the shelf behind Vera. A wooden medical crate tips from the shelf, lands on one corner, and splits open. Glass ampoules tumble through the broken wood and shatter behind Vera, within reach of her bound hands.

Her fingers close around a long shard of glass.

The guard catches her by the back of her sweater and hauls her upright. Vera turns inside his grip and drives the broken ampoule into his wrist.

He screams and releases her.

She tears the glass free, cuts one side of the nylon restraint, then strikes him across the face when he reaches for her again. Blood runs over his cheek, and Vera drops before his pistol clears the holster.

I fire beneath the table.

The bullet strikes his thigh just above the knee. He buckles beside Vera, and she tears the pistol from his holster as he falls.

“Down,” I shout.

She drops behind the table, holding the pistol against her chest.

Dmitri enters through the loading hall with Dima beside him and four men behind them. Smoke from the breaching charge follows them through the broken doorway. Dmitri fires twice without slowing, while Dima moves along the opposite wall and drives Belov’s remaining guard away from the fire exit.

Chernov fires at Zaitsev, but the bullet strikes Kozlov’s guard in the shoulder. Tarasov pulls the wounded man out of the line of fire as Chernov runs for the inner door. Zaitsev fires at Chernov’s legs. The first shot strikes the floor, but the second breaks Chernov’s right knee. Chernov crashes beside the stolen archive boxes.

“You broke my leg,” he shouts, his face twisted in pain.

Dmitri reaches him and kicks the pistol away. “Complain downstairs.”

Rudenko backs toward the fire door, firing at Dima until the pistol clicks empty. He reaches inside his coat for another magazine, but the door opens behind him.

He stumbles sideways, catches himself, and turns. Maksim stands in the doorway with Abramov, six loyal captains, and four of Abramov’s men.

Rudenko looks at the empty pistol, then fumbles with the fresh magazine.

Maksim steps closer. “Hurry, Rudenko. I don’t have time to watch you struggle.”

He catches Rudenko’s wrist and twists hard. The pistol drops from his hand and strikes the floor.

Two of Abramov’s men force him facedown and bind his wrists. Two more men move through the inner door, cutting off the last exit while Dmitri’s team clears the loading hall.

Belov disappears into the smoke beside the windows.

I search through smoke, fallen chairs, and men dragging themselves away from the gunfire. Vera crouches behind the table with the stolen pistol in both hands. Her restraints hang from one wrist, and blood runs between her fingers.

“Vera.”

She looks past me instead of answering.

Her eyes widen.

“Left!”

I turn as Belov steps from the narrow recess beside the painted window and aims at my ribs.

Vera fires first.