Page 131 of Brutal Reign

“Hope’s made contact,” Niko updates over comms. “They’re embracing. It looks like a happy reunion. Now she’s leading him toward the VIP staircase. Chen’s following right behind her. Maxim, you should have them on the security feeds.”

I let out a tight breath and tilt my head back against the wall. Almost there. Another few minutes, and this nightmare ends.

But Maxim’s silence stretches too long.

“Maxim, confirm visual on Hope and Chen,” I demand.

More silence. My pulse spikes.

I move toward the false wall, ready to tear it down and go find her, but Roman’s hand clamps on my shoulder. “Give it a minute.”

Maxim’s voice, strained and urgent, finally comes through. “Our entire camera security system just went dark. Every camera, every monitor, is down. It’s like someone hit a kill switch from outside. We’re bringing backup systems online, but it will take two minutes.”

Shit. Two fucking minutes is an eternity.

Before I can respond, Eva cuts in. “Holy shit. A helicopter is approaching the roof. Repeat: unauthorized aircraft approaching the building!”

Roman’s gaze locks with mine, and I see my own terror reflected there.

“Vadim, can you take out that helicopter?” I bark into my comm.

“Negative,” comes his frustrated response. “Can’t get a clean shot while it’s in motion; there’s too much risk of it crashing into the street below and killing a bunch of people. Soon as it lands, I’ll drop it.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Cameras back online.” Maxim’s voice crackles through. “Hope and Chen are in the back stairwell with at least six of his men, all armed. I think Chen’s dragging her up to the roof.”

The pieces slam together in my mind; that helicopter is their exit strategy. All our planning, all our contingencies, every fucking detail we obsessed over, and it still went to shit.

Self-loathing burns through my chest like acid. I was supposed to protect her, ensure nothing like this happened. Instead, my worst nightmare is unfolding, but damn if I’ll let that chopper lift off with her inside it.

“Let’s go,” I bark, signaling Roman.

We hit the stairwell door and shoulder through, pounding upward, concrete walls closing around us as we climb three steps at a time. The roof is five flights away. If she reaches it, I may never see her again.

Dinara’s orders crackle through the comms. “All units, converge on the roof immediately! Hostiles in the back stairwell. Backup is needed!”

We’re halfway up the second flight when Roman’s hand slams into my chest, stopping me cold. He points to shadows moving on the wall above us, followed by the metallic click of weapons being readied.

Motherfucker.

Roman yanks me back around the corner of the landing just as automatic weapons light up the stairwell where we’d been standing seconds before, the sound deafening in the enclosed concrete space. Chunks of wall explode around us, showering us with dust and debris that sting my eyes and fill my lungs.

I draw my pistol and lean around the corner, squeezing off controlled bursts at the two hostiles crouched on the landing above us. My first shots catch one in his chest, and he pitches forward with a grunt, his body tumbling down the stairs in a bloody heap.

Roman uses the opening to pivot right to get a different angle on the second gunman. His shots ring out one after the other, and the hostile drops like a stone.

“Move!” I shout, and we vault over the corpses, our boots slipping a little in the spreading pool of blood as we press upward toward the third floor.

More gunfire erupts from above as we round the corner, and a chunk of flying concrete catches my temple, opening a gash that streams blood down my jaw, but I barely register the pain through the adrenaline.

“At least two more on the fourth floor,” Roman calls out, breathing hard as he spots the muzzle flashes above us.

I press my back against the wall, keying my comm with my free hand. “Maxim, I need Hope’s exact position. Are we clear to engage on the fourth floor?”

“She’s still climbing with Chen. They’re between fourth and fifth floor now,” comes his terse reply. “You’re clear for fourth floor engagement but watch your trajectory.”

“Copy that,” I respond, then signal Roman.