Page 121 of Stolen Empire

Then I ball up my fist and bang harder, hoping to be heard over the crack of the gunshots.

"Someone help!"

My imagination runs wild now, thoughts of them capturing Dimitri and making him watch as they slit my throat.

It brings tears to my eyes now as a fresh wave of adrenaline and emotion surges.

"Dimitri!"

I shout, almost pleading with him to hear me and run away.

I will die for him if I have to, but I don’t want him to come closer.

I can't stand the idea of their capturing him and killing him.

"Please, oh my God," I whimper, pressing my forehead to the door.

"Please, God…"

My soft prayer is the only tether I have to the last hope of rescue.

If it's Dimitri and he's not successful, that's it.

I don't want to die.

And I don't want him to die.

All I can do is stand here sobbing and shaking, praying somehow, those things don't happen.

20

DIMITRI

The warehouse door explodes inward under a hail of bullets, and I move through the splintered wood with my gun raised and my heartbeat steady in my ears.

I learned long ago that panic makes men stupid, and stupid men die fast in this business.

The two soldiers flanking me spread wide to cover the angles as muzzle flashes light up the cavernous interior like lightning strikes.

The Radich’s have chosen their ground poorly.

The warehouse stretches deep into shadow, but the overhead lights create harsh illumination that leaves nowhere to hide.

I count four men scrambling for position behind stacks of crates and rusted machinery.

My eyes sweep the space, searching for any sign of her.

The main floor is empty except for the Radich’s and their weapons.

She must be in one of the back offices.

My jaw clenches.

They have her somewhere I can’t see, which means I need to clear this room first.

"You brought friends, Volkov!"

The shout comes from behind a stack of pallets to the left.