Page 47 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

Millie

The scream that tore through the walls didn’t belong to me.

It was short, one sharp note that cut through the air and lodged in my chest. The kind of sound you make when you know it’s over. Your last chance to be heard. Whoever it was, Aleksei hadn’t planned to drag it out. He had just ended them.

The room felt colder.

Every hair on my body rose, my skin drawn tight with the kind of fear that wasn’t rational.

It was primal, bone-deep, the kind that whispered— you’re next .

Whoever was out there had been nothing more than a detour, a quick stop before he came back to finish me.

And staring at the body crumpled in front of me, I knew exactly how my story would end if I didn’t move.

I could play chess with Aleksei all day, as long as he’d let me. But the second he threw her through those doors, I knew the truth. He was a man who didn’t give second chances. A man who didn’t see people, only pieces to be sacrificed.

Power was the only currency he valued, and he would burn the board, the pieces, and everyone watching just to take the reins. Life meant nothing to him. Not hers. Not mine. Not anyone’s standing in his way.

Regardless of how much I wanted to believe the intercom gave me some kind of power over him, the truth was I was still trapped in a concrete box, and the only way out was if someone allowed me to leave.

Then, as if my thoughts had willed it into existence, metal scraped against metal, a harsh, grating slide that echoed off the concrete, and the door swung open.

I stayed frozen on the floor, every muscle locked. Footsteps followed—slow, deliberate—each one heavier than the last until a shadow stretched across the room.

Aleksei .

He tilted his head.

I raised an eyebrow in response. I refused to let him see my fear. Refused to let him think I was afraid of him.

"I can see why the two of you like each other so much. You’re both too fucking stubborn."

I’d already told him I had no clue who the fuck she was, but I guess the man was delusional as well as a sociopath.

"I already told you. I don’t know her. You’re wasting your time."

I rolled my eyes and looked away, not giving a single shit about anything else he had to say.

Until the next words took the breath straight out of me and locked my lungs.

"Not her. Your little friend that came to visit. Sweet Savannah ."

My head snapped up. His hand was already rising, a blade clutched tight. Blood. Wet and thick, dripping from the edge.

He lifted it higher, the blade trembling with crimson. Then, without breaking eye contact, his tongue slid over the edge in one slow, deliberate stroke.

Savannah’s blood on his tongue. My best friend’s blood.

And just like before, the bile surged, and I couldn’t stop it. It tore free from my throat, burning its way up until it splattered the concrete.

My body shook with the force of it.

Aleksei didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

He just stood there and laughed, low and cruel, the sound curling around me like smoke I couldn’t escape.

I didn’t realize he was standing over me until pain ripped through my scalp, patches of hair tearing free in his fist as he yanked me to my feet.

The same blade that carried Savannah’s blood pressed to my throat.

I didn’t care.

He had already taken my soulmate. Let him take me next.

Better one long, clean gash than whatever slow, cruel death the woman on the floor had suffered.

I was done fighting. I was done pretending I cared about what happened to me.

I didn’t want to feel the loss of my best friend.

I just wanted it all to go numb, even if it meant meeting death too.

"Be a good girl when we take this little walk. I'd hate to have to end your life so soon," he said, shoving me forward until my legs stumbled into motion.

I thought about running. If I saw an exit, maybe I could take it. Maybe I could make it out. But the thought snapped back on me just as fast.

Savannah was still here. Somewhere in this hellhole. I wouldn’t leave her behind. Even if she was already—

I refused to finish that thought.

My feet kept moving, carrying me out of the room, down a narrow hallway where the walls seemed to lean in closer with every step.

We reached a stairwell, the metal steps cold and hollow under my shoes.

"It really is a shame you’ll never get to live to tell my story," he said, his tone almost casual.

I stayed silent. I wasn’t giving in to his games anymore.

"The one where I lured the single person who tried to shut me down years ago right into a trap… and took out his entire family."

He was talking about Jaxson. That much I knew now. And it wouldn’t matter if they lived or died. I wouldn’t be around to witness it.

At the bottom of the stairs, we stopped in front of a heavy metal door.

“Open it,” he said, his hand clamping harder on the top of my head. A few more strands of hair snapped under the pressure, the sting prickling my scalp.

I gripped the handle and shoved it open.

We stepped into a hallway that felt like stepping into a grave. The air was stale, thick with dust that clung to the back of my throat. The walls were old—cracked plaster and peeling paint, the kind of neglect that whispered no one came here unless they had to.

A sour, rotten stench rolled through the space, but it was masked under something sharp and chemical, like bleach trying, and failing, to scrub away the truth.

It was the smell of murder, of bodies left too long, of decay that no amount of scrubbing could erase.

A smell that had soaked into the walls, into the floor, into the bones of the building itself.

The hallway stretched out in front of me, long and narrow, the air thick enough to choke on. At the far end, a thin sliver of light bled in through an open doorway, cutting across the floor like a promise.

Freedom.

My heart slammed harder with each step, the sound pounding in my ears.

I could see the opening now. See the faint outline of doors beyond it. If I could make it there, just a few more steps, this nightmare could end.

Savannah was gone. I had to believe that. I had to get out before Aleksei decided he was done with me too. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to put every ounce of strength I had left into making it to that light.

My pace quickened. The air tasted different the closer I got—less stale, less heavy—and power started to surge through my veins again. I could make it. I could—

A sound broke through the silence.

A whimper. Soft, strained… alive.

I froze. Slowly, my head turned toward a half-open door to my left.

A woman slumped in a chair, her head tilted back against the wall like her neck couldn’t hold it up anymore. At first, she was just a shadow in the dim light, until I looked down.

A gold chain shimmered against her collarbone, barely catching the sickly yellow glow from the overhead bulb. The small pendant twisted just enough to show the curve of an S .

It was all I needed.

Hope flared, sharp and blinding.

Savannah.

His grip on my hair was still a vise, burning against my scalp, but rage had a way of sharpening everything. I twisted hard, drove my palm into his nose in an upward motion with every ounce of fury in me. Just like Jaxson had taught me years ago.

The impact cracked through his skull with a sickening pop. He stumbled back, one hand flying to his face.

"You fucking bitch!" he roared.

I didn’t waste a second.

I ran.

Straight to her.

“Savannah,” I choked out, my knees hitting the floor so hard I didn’t feel it. My hands cradled her face before I could think, before I could process the cold sweat slicking her skin.

“No, no, no… baby, stay with me. I’m here now. I got you. I swear to God, I’ve got you.”

Tears blurred everything. My voice shook as I whispered to every god I’d ever heard of, every power I didn’t even believe in, begging them not to take her. Not like this.

Her head lifted slowly, on her own, and I pressed my forehead to hers. My hands slid down, gripping her shoulders, then her thigh, grounding her. Grounding me.

And then I felt it.

Warm liquid seeping into my palm.

I pulled my hand back.

Blood.

Savannah’s blood.

My stomach twisted as my gaze dropped to her leg. There wasn’t just one wound. There were two. And they weren’t clean cuts. The edges were jagged, flesh torn and raw.

It hit me like a sledgehammer.

He hadn’t just stabbed her. He’d twisted the blade, grinding it in slow, deliberate circles, like her thigh was a screw and he was holding the tool to drive it deeper.

A sound tore from my chest—part gasp, part growl—and for the first time since I’d been dragged into this hellhole, I wanted to kill him more than I wanted to survive.

I leaned in close, my lips brushing her ear. “You have to fight, Savannah. One last time. You give it everything you have left, and I swear I’ll do the same. We’ll beat him. Together.”

Her lashes fluttered, slow but deliberate, and I saw it. Saw the fight clawing its way back into her. Like she was dragging every shred of strength from the deepest part of her soul for what was coming next.

I pulled back just enough to see her face, her breathing shifting from shallow and broken to something steadier, stronger.

Then, a shadow shifted in the corner of my vision.

And I saw them. Four men in the room behind her. Sitting around a table. Cards in hand. Cigarette smoke curling in the air. Like her life, our lives, were nothing more than background noise.

My gaze dropped to the table.

Guns.

Just lying there. Inches from their hands. Like they were waiting for a war to break out.

For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine it—lunging forward, grabbing one, and ending this here and now. But it was only a flicker, a dangerous thought that flared and faded before I could act.

One of the men turned his head toward me, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face.

Savannah’s head lifted just enough for her voice to tremble out. “Millie. You’re alive.”

“Yes, I—”