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More players entered the game with each round, whoever had the strength and guts to join.
Leaving the office, I scouted for higher ground. Voices carried over as I lifted my body to the nearest vent. I crawled on all fours through the tight space, armed with only a few of my trusted knives. A dust-filled breeze swept through the tunnel, and I suppressed a giggle at how ridiculous it would be if the dust made me sneeze. But any humor was wiped away when I reached the room. I could tell it was near the door through the bars of the opening on the side. Two guards stood outside. From this angle, they looked like they were in jail, which would be a better fate than the one I planned for them.
Not wasting any time, I pulled out a knife and started to loosen the bolts. I only advanced further when I was sure it could be kicked off easily.
I lay flat, schooling my breathing, and slid rather than crawled to avoid making noise, silently praying for another viewing point closer to the center of the room.
The next vantage was almost directly above what seemed like a living room setup. A coffee table filled with cakes, fruits, and nuts occupied the middle. A hand reached for some of them. There on the couch, Malek sat, sporting a thick beard. With his legs casually spread, he laughed, his demeanor unconcerned. Suddenly, his eyes lifted this way, and I skipped a beat or two, waiting for his reaction.
None came.
The man they called Ravager must have been directly below me. Not wanting to reveal myself, I slid away from the opening and tried to make myself comfortable, unsure how long I’d be stuck up here.
They spoke in fluent Russian, and I focused on their conversation.
“Cousin, it’s good to see you,” Ravager greeted Malek, shocking me to the core.
Cousins?
“I was beginning to worry you would miss it.”
“The holidays? Or you taking over?” Malek chuckled deeply.
“What is it I hear about an engagement?”
“Ah,” Malek’s smile was heard in his words. “Another event to look forward to.”
“And to Laurov’s daughter.”
I rolled my eyes. Laurov’s daughter, my ass.
“We are a long way from that wooden cabin we grew up in Siberia.”
Malek was Siberian? I mentally slapped myself. All those background checks and research I’ve done, I should have crawled in the vent shafts and listened to people’s private conversations more often. Somehow it revealed what I didn’t know and then some.
“You tell me,” Malek turned to his cousin. “I hear this isn’t your first time in the States, either.”
“No. It isn’t,” the man revealed.
“Excuse me if I find the timing a tad suspicious.”
“Oh, by all means.”
I had heard enough when I reversed to the previous opening, expecting the action to begin any minute. Despite wearing long-sleeved clothing, the movement still burned me. I ignored the feeling. When I reached the intended spot, another challenge awaited me: rotating without making too much sound. Slowly and with precise movements, I positioned my feet against the bars, breathing in, remembering what or who
I was fighting for.
If this is how I go down, let me make it count. I got back into the zone, running my mind through the motions.
Eight to go.
With a kick to the bars, I briskly squeezed through. Steady on my feet, I took the fight to the guards first, praying that Malek or the other guy wouldn’t kill the bride-to-be. Or at least not before I face them.
Based on their movements, I first took on the slower one, applying the pressure to the guard’s hand. With a snap of his wrist, he let go, allowing me an opportunity to eliminate them both. By the time the first one went down, the second had me in his grip. He lifted me above ground, spinning us around toward his boss. My eyes locked with Malek ahead of me, the shock on his face lacking when I kicked the guard with the back of my head.
Thick-headed assholes. What did they feed these men? Potatoes, that’s what.
Spots formed around my vision, but he had it worse. With another kick to the head, he stepped back just in time. A shot between his eyes did it.