Page 35 of Ruinous Need

VIKTOR

THEY WON’T FIND Lisette.

I stomp through the knee-deep snow, checking the magazine of bullets slung over my shoulder and loading my gun.

The balaclava over my face keeps out some of the biting cold. Hopefully, it also conceals my identity enough that they don’t detect that it’s me.

As soon as they lay eyes on me, they’ll know Lisette is close.

I don’t care if I have to kill every one of Semyon’s loyal dogs. I just have to hope that with hundreds of bullets I can be distraction enough that they never find her.

I mow down a pair of guards patrolling the bottom of the hill, thanking the night-vision scope on my rifle. They hadn’t even seen me, and they drop silently into the snow.

They must know she’s close, but I push that thought out of my head. There’s no point in being fatalistic.

In a battle like this, all I can do is survive. And hope that I bring enough of these bastards down with me to stop them finding her.

From the rise we climbed, I survey the scene in front of me. It’s illuminated now and again by flashes of machine-gun bullets, but otherwise it’s pitch black.

What I can see is chaos. I’ve been organizing the coup, and even I can’t tell who’s on my side and who’s on Semyon’s side.

To make matters worse, the revving engines in the distance tell me that the Irish are getting close. If the other mobs didn’t know where Lisette was before, they definitely do now.

A skirmish between two halves of the Bratva will attract every vulture in the city. It’s an ominous situation. I can’t see it ending well for anyone.

The wind is bitterly cold. The snow is still falling sideways in biting icy chunks.

I trudge halfway down the hill and take my position behind a tree, glad of the rifles I stripped from the guards who came after us. You can never have enough bullets when chaos reigns.

The fight is spreading up to meet me, but I’ll try to keep this side hemmed in.

There’s one mission in my mind: keep them away from the forest where she’s hidden.

My hands are getting numb from the cold as the fight spreads across the field to meet me. Things are getting chaotic now.

I almost miss a fighter who attacks me from behind, failing to notice him until his hands are at my throat. He hadn’t seen the knife in my hand.

I stab through the layers of insulated fabric until I feel the knife slice through skin. He gasps and releases me, stepping back with blood gushing from his thigh.

I shoot him in the face and fend off the men who swarm around their fallen soldier.

I don’t think I recognize them, but it’s hard to be sure.

I could be killing anyone. I don’t let the thought freeze me in my motions, but I take care to check, pulling masks and ski goggles from the fighters who advance.

This is an outright war.

I’m now past the point of being able to tell whether my skin stings from the grazes of bullets, whether my lungs are burning from tear gas or something else. All my body parts are alternating between burning heat and blissful numbness.

I have to shove my trigger finger into my armpit in an attempt to keep it warm.

A bullet whizzes perilously close to my face. I roll over the hard, icy ground leaving a trail of blood in my wake.

I’m too numb to feel where it’s coming from. But I can tell that I’m getting slower and weaker, and I don’t like it.

A spray of sparks followed by a line of men falling to the ground confirms that the Irish have indeed arrived. I’m sure the Italian mafia won’t be far behind.

I crouch behind a tree and reload. I’m running out of bullets. I don’t know where Markov or Daria are. Not one of these men seems to be on my side.

I try not to let the paranoia and suspicion creep into my thoughts. But someone has sold us out.

Semyon never knew about this place. It was my father’s secret. A well-kept secret among the upper echelons of the former Council.

A gunshot skims past my shoulder, ripping through the ski jacket’s fabric, and I make it to the other side of the tree just in time.

Too late, I realize my mistake.

The thick tree trunk I thought I saw in the low light turns out to be a wall of living, breathing muscle. Semyon’s top guard, Vadim. Our eyes meet, and he rips back my balaclava, shoving his gun under my chin. He knows it’s me.

“Well well well,” he says. “She can’t be too far away if you’re here, can she?”

He slams the rifle across my face, the blow making pain explode through my numb skin.

I don’t react. Years of beatings have taught me how to handle a hit like that.

“Where is she, Viktor?” He yells at me, but I tense in his grip.

There’s a way out of this. There’s always a way out.

“Semyon will be pleased we’ve found you. He may even want to personally extract the information.” I tried to twist out of his grasp, stomping on his foot as hard as I can. He flinches, and I almost get to my belt to grab my knife before he brings another heavy blow down on my head.

Moving my muscles is becoming an effort. I can feel the blood flowing in a hot river over my face. He split my head open, the bastard.

The guards have heard his yelling. They’re swarming around us now, like flies around a tasty piece of dead meat.

I spit red blood in Vadim’s face. “You won’t find her.”

The next thing I see is Semyon approaching, looking fresh as a daisy. Not taking part in this battle like the paper pusher he is.

“Oh, Viktor,” his voice says, sounding pleased with himself. No.It can’t have all been for nothing.“I’ll make sure you’re not invited to the wedding.”

Then one of the guards strikes me with the butt of a rifle. The freezing night dissolves in a black cloud.