Page 64

Being responsible was fucking exhausting. I did it for Anika. If it had been just the three of us with our men, I’d have been covered in blood already with a mass of bodies in my wake. My right eye twitched from holding myself back, but I did it because keeping Anika safe mattered more than my bloodlust.

The tunnel curved beneath the center dock. A small shoe print cut through the blood spreading across the floor, and I lifted my fist. Everyone stopped, and in the sudden stillness the pounding from the pumps filled the passage. I cupped a hand around my ear, indicating what I needed. Roman nodded and handed me an earpiece attached to the tablet. All he had to do was point it and the attached microphone would amplify the remaining sounds. The whooshing thud, thud from the pumps cut out, leaving my ear ringing. I pressed the earpiece tighter and closed my eyes. Fabric scraped concrete, followed by a tiny sniff.

“If that isn’t a kid, I’ll eat my damned socks.” I kept my gun aimed toward the final bend. “Slowly.”

Anika’s hand closed around the back of my vest. “Is it Nora?”

“I don’t know, darling.” I moved her hand to Maksim’s arm. “Stay on my ass until I do.”

The passage opened into a maintenance chamber filled with pipes, valves, and one steel door. Alina sat beneath it with Mikhail crushed against her chest. Blood soaked her shirt from ribs to hip and coated one leg. A pistol rested across her lap, but the barrel only made it halfway up before her wrist failed and the weapon struck the floor. Alina shoved Mikhail behind her and braced one bloody palm against the wall, determined to fight even though she couldn’t get one boot beneath her.

I holstered my gun. “If you shoot me after that touching gesture, I’m going to be extremely offended.”

She managed to lift her head before her knee folded. I reached her in time to keep her skull from hitting the pipes, but Mikhail came at me like a feral cat. His fists struck my chest. One heel caught my thigh, and he twisted between us, protecting his mother with all the power in his small body, teeth bared and eyes so fucking full of fear it was a wonder he could function at all.

“Well done, my boy, but you’re fighting the wrong side.” I made eye contact without trying to stop him. The wildness in his eyes needed an outlet, and I was more than happy to be a punching bag so long as he didn’t grab the gun. “I’m helping her.” I lowered Alina to the walkway and opened my hands where he could see them. We needed answers, and this woman had them. “You can supervise me. Everyone agrees I require it.”

He kept his fists up. Dark hair clung to his forehead, and his lower lip trembled even though his jaw was set in a hard line. Photographs had made him seem older, when in person, he barely came to my waist.

Five years old. Small enough to carry and old enough to believe he had to fight grown men because no one else would save his mother.

Roman dropped beside Alina and tore open his medical pack. Mikhail tracked every movement, shifting when Roman reached toward her. I pulled out the thermal blanket and offered it. He ignored me until I opened the foil and tucked one edge around Alina. Then he snatched it and wrapped it around both of them, tucking his body so close to her side their breathing patterns synchronized. Which was shit for him because Alina kept skipping breaths or holding too long.

The boy didn’t cry. I would’ve preferred screaming, kicking, or biting. Anything except the terrible control that made him tuck the blanket beneath his mother’s chin before covering himself.

Anika pushed between Maksim and me and dropped to her knees. “Alina. Open your eyes.” She patted Alina’s hand, then shot a soft look at Mikhail. “Hello, Mikhail. We’ll get you and Alina out of here. Don’t worry.” Her shoulders shuddered with an uneven breath, and I almost warned her not to promise such things.

Mikhail threw himself over his mother’s stomach, his eyes wide at the sight of Anika.

Roman slapped a field dressing over Alina’s side and guided both Anika’s hands on top of it. “Harder.” He pulled another bandage from the pack and wound it around Alina’s thigh. “She’s already lost too much.”

Alina woke with a broken gasp and clawed at Anika’s hands. Her fingers found Mikhail instead, closing around the back of his shirt. “Don’t take him.”

“No one is taking your son.” Anika leaned over the wound and put more weight behind her palms. Her voice shook while her hands remained steady. “Where’s Nora?”

Alina’s eyes opened. She stared at the sister wearing her blood, and some of the fight left her grip. “Safe.”

Anika’s elbows buckled. Roman caught one before the pressure lifted from the dressing, and Maksim braced a hand between her shoulder blades. She dragged in air that shuddered all the way down, then pushed harder until fresh blood stopped welling around her fingers.

“Where?” She scrubbed her tear-streaked cheek over her shoulder. “Who has her?”

“Someone Sokolov doesn’t know.” Alina’s teeth chattered. “He found the building while Nora was on the phone. I got them out before his men reached the floor.”

The command channel cracked inside my ear. Surface teams were closing on the dock, but no one had found Sokolov or the men who’d chased Alina underground.

Maksim touched his earpiece. “Hold every exit. No one comes underground without my order.” His attention never left the steel door, promising we were protected without having to say a word.

Anika bent closer to her twin. “You separated the children.”

“I had to.” Alina’s eyes rolled shut, and Roman slapped her cheek until they reopened. “Nora went with someone I trust. I took Mikhail through the loading yard and made sure Sokolov’s men saw us.”

“You used your son as bait?” Anika’s voice climbed before she glanced at Mikhail and forced it lower. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I used myself.” Alina dragged Mikhail against her uninjured side. “Sokolov controls me through him. He knew I’d never leave Mikhail, so they followed us instead of searching for Nora.”

Mikhail tucked his face beneath her chin. He’d heard enough people discuss his value as a weapon that he didn’t react to the words except to settle harder against his mother and mutter under his breath. “I’ll kill him. Someday.”

My hand settled on my knife. His gaze dropped to it, and I made myself let go. Sokolov’s fingers would come off eventually. I didn’t need to frighten a child while picturing it. Then again, based on Mikhail’s reactions, he fully approved. Maybe I’d let Anika and her proposed steamroller take care of him. I wouldn’t mind seeing Sokolov flattened.