Page 27 of Bride of the Bratva King (Blood & Bride #1)

Chapter twenty-five

The Rescue

M ila

Everything goes wrong in the first five minutes.

The warehouse isn't just a trap—it's a death maze designed specifically to eliminate anyone stupid enough to walk through the front door. Elena has had weeks to prepare, and she's used every minute to turn a simple building into a killing field.

"Abort," I say into my headset from the command vehicle positioned three blocks away. "Alexei, abort now. The thermal imaging shows at least thirty hostiles, not twelve."

"Can't abort," comes his voice through the static. "We're already inside, and the exits are compromised."

"What do you mean compromised?"

"I mean Elena's people have explosives rigged to the exits. We go back the way we came, the building comes down on top of us."

My blood turns to ice. This is exactly what I was afraid of—Elena using our emotions against us, baiting us into a situation where retreat is impossible and victory comes at an unacceptable cost.

"Options?" I ask, my fingers flying over the laptop keyboard as I try to map alternative escape routes.

"Fight our way through. There's an emergency exit on the north side that might not be rigged."

"Might not be?"

"Best option we have."

The radio crackles with gunfire and shouted orders as Alexei's team engages Elena's forces throughout the warehouse. I can hear my husband's voice coordinating the attack, calm and professional despite being outnumbered and trapped.

"Boris, take the west corridor. Dmitri, cover the stairs. I'm going after Elena directly."

"Sir," Boris's voice comes through the static, "that's a kill zone. She's positioned herself—"

"I know exactly where she's positioned herself. That's why I'm going alone."

"Alexei, no," I breathe into my microphone. "Don't you dare try to be a hero."

"Not being a hero, little wife. Being practical. Elena wants me, not my men. If I give her what she wants, maybe the rest of them can get out alive."

"And maybe she kills you and your men anyway."

"Maybe. But this way, you and our baby survive."

The words hit me like bullets. He's planning to sacrifice himself to get his people out safely, to ensure Elena can't threaten our family ever again.

"Like hell," I mutter, switching communication channels.

"Mrs. Morozov?" The driver of our command vehicle turns to look at me. "Orders?"

"Get me closer to the building."

"Ma'am, Mr. Morozov's instructions were very specific—"

"Mr. Morozov's instructions didn't account for his wife having a plan. Move the vehicle. Now."

"Ma'am—"

"That's an order. Move us to within fifty yards of the north exit."

The driver exchanges glances with my security detail, but they follow orders. The command vehicle lurches forward, carrying me closer to the warehouse where the man I love is fighting for his life.

I switch back to the tactical channel and call up building schematics on my laptop. There has to be something Elena missed, some vulnerability we can exploit.

"Alexei," I say into my headset, "I'm reading the building plans. The north exit leads to a loading dock with vehicle access."

"Copy that."

"But there's something else. The building has an old fire suppression system—CO2 flooding for the entire structure."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning if I can access the system remotely, I can trigger a full flood. It'll force everyone to evacuate within minutes or risk asphyxiation."

"Including my people."

"Including your people. But it gives everyone thirty seconds to get to the exits before the system activates."

"Can you do it?"

"Give me two minutes."

My fingers fly over the keyboard, breaking through layers of digital security that Elena probably thought were impenetrable. The fire suppression system is old, connected to the internet through outdated protocols that have more holes than Swiss cheese.

"Got it," I announce. "Fire suppression system is under my control. Everyone needs to get to the north exit in thirty seconds or less."

"Copy. All teams, you heard her. North exit, thirty seconds."

I can hear them moving through the building, the sound of gunfire decreasing as both sides realize something has changed.

"Elena," Alexei's voice comes through clearly, "I know you can hear this. Your people have thirty seconds to evacuate before this building becomes uninhabitable. Your choice whether they live or die."

"Alexei Morozov," Elena's voice crackles through the radio—she's been monitoring our communications. "Always so concerned with collateral damage. It's a weakness my brother never understood."

"Your brother was a monster. You're just another criminal who's about to run out of time."

"Am I? Tell me, Mr. Morozov, how is your pregnant wife? Still safely tucked away in her command vehicle?"

Ice floods my veins. Elena knows exactly where I am.

"Ten seconds," I announce, ignoring Elena's taunt. "Everyone move now."

I trigger the system, and alarms begin blaring throughout the warehouse. Within seconds, I can see figures streaming from the north exit—Alexei's men, followed by Elena's people, all of them desperate to reach breathable air.

But no Alexei.

"Where is he?" I demand into my headset. "Boris, where's Alexei?"

"Still inside," comes the grim response. "He's going after Elena."

"In a building filling with carbon dioxide?"

"Elena didn't evacuate either. They're both still in there."

The next two minutes feel like hours. I watch the warehouse through binoculars, seeing the emergency lights flashing, knowing that somewhere inside my husband is hunting a woman who wants him dead.

Then the north exit explodes.

Not from Elena's charges—from some kind of improvised explosive that turns the loading dock into a crater and blocks the primary escape route.

"Shit," Boris's voice crackles through the radio. "North exit is gone. Repeat, north exit is compromised."

"Other exits?"

"All rigged with Elena's charges. If we try to breach them—"

"The building comes down. I know."

My mind races through options, none of them good. The fire suppression system will clear in about ten minutes, but by then anyone still inside could be dead from carbon dioxide poisoning.

"Movement on the roof," one of Boris's snipers reports. "Elena's people trying to get to higher ground."

"Take them down," I order. "Don't let anyone escape to coordinate reinforcements."

The sharp crack of sniper rifles echoes across the industrial complex as Elena's rooftop team is eliminated one by one. But my attention is focused on the second-story windows where I finally spot what I've been looking for.

"There," I breathe, adjusting my binoculars. "I see them."

Alexei and Elena are fighting hand-to-hand in what looks like an office space, silhouetted against the emergency lighting. Even through the magnification, I can see they're both moving sluggishly, struggling with the effects of oxygen deprivation.

Elena swings something—a piece of broken furniture—at Alexei's head. He ducks, but the movement is clumsy, delayed. The CO2 is affecting both of them, and whoever collapses first will die.

"Alexei's in trouble," I report. "They're both showing signs of carbon dioxide poisoning."

"Time until the system clears?" Boris asks.

"Eight minutes. Too long."

"We need to get them out," I say into my headset.

"Ma'am, the building is compromised. Any attempt to enter—"

"Will get people killed. I know. But we can't just watch them die."

Through the binoculars, I see Elena stumble and fall to one knee. Alexei moves toward her, but he's weaving like a drunk man. This isn't a fight anymore—it's two people slowly suffocating while trying to kill each other.

"Mrs. Morozov," Dmitri's voice comes through the radio, "there might be another way. The building has external fire escapes on the east side. If we can get to the second floor..."

"Do it. Take whoever you need and get my husband out of there."

"Ma'am, Elena's still armed. She could kill anyone who tries to breach that room."

"Then you'll have to be faster than a dying woman with a gun."

"And Elena?"

I watch through the binoculars as she struggles to stand, raising what looks like a pistol toward Alexei with shaking hands. The shot she fires goes wide, shattering a window instead of finding its target.

"If she surrenders, we take her alive. If she doesn't..." I pause, thinking about the threats to our unborn child, the months of psychological warfare, the trap that nearly killed the man I love. "If she doesn't, leave her for the carbon dioxide."

"Understood. Moving now."

The next few minutes are agonizing. Dmitri's team scales the fire escape with tactical precision while Elena's remaining ground forces try to provide covering fire from their scattered positions.

I coordinate counter-sniper fire from our perimeter teams, watching Elena's people drop one by one as they expose themselves to protect their boss.

"Breaching now," Dmitri reports as his team kicks in the second-story window.

Through my binoculars, I see the tactical team flood into the smoke-filled office. Elena, barely conscious but still fighting, tries to turn her weapon on the intruders. Alexei, operating on pure instinct despite oxygen deprivation, tackles her from behind.

They go down together in a tangle of limbs, rolling toward the shattered window. Elena's gun skitters across the floor as they struggle at the edge of the opening.

"Alexei, stay back!" Dmitri shouts, but the CO2 poisoning has affected my husband's judgment. He's fighting like it's still a death match instead of a rescue operation.

Elena breaks free and lunges for her weapon. Alexei follows, grabbing for her ankle just as she reaches the gun. For a moment, they're both balanced precariously at the window's edge.

Then Elena's grip on the windowsill fails.

She falls two stories to the concrete below with a sound that carries clearly across the industrial complex. The wet crack of bones breaking is audible even from my position fifty yards away.