Page 102 of The Beast's Broken Angel
“Move!” Viktor roared, but there was nowhere to go.
Concrete and twisted metal rained down, and I threw myself under the reinforced desk as the world exploded into dust and debris. The impact knocked the wind out of me, medical kit scattering across the floor as everything went dark.
When the rumbling finally stopped, I couldn't see shit. The emergency lighting was gone, buried under God knows how many tons of building. My ears rang like church bells, and every breath tasted of pulverised concrete.
“Viktor?” I coughed, feeling around in the darkness. My hand found something warm and wet. Blood. Too much blood. “Viktor, you alive?”
A groan from somewhere to my left. “Da. But pinned. Left leg trapped under beam.”
Fuck. I crawled toward his voice, hands searching through the rubble. The space we were in had shrunk to maybe a quarter of its original size, the rest buried under the collapsed ceiling. My fingers found Viktor's massive frame, then the steel beam crushing his leg.
“How bad?” I asked, already knowing the answer from the amount of blood pooling around him.
“Bad enough.” His voice was tight with pain he'd never admit to. “But bigger problem. Exit is blocked. We are... how you English say... properly fucked.”
He wasn't wrong. The main door was buried under enough debris to need heavy equipment to clear. The observation windows were gone, replaced by solid walls of twisted metal and concrete. We were trapped in a tomb of our own making.
“Can you reach Adrian on comms?” I asked, fumbling for my medical kit in the darkness. My phone was cracked, no signal. Of course.
“Communications down,” Viktor confirmed. “Interference from Harrison's team. Professional work.”
I found my kit by touch, pulling out the small tactical torch I'd started carrying after too many power outages at the hospital. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing our situation in harsh detail.
Viktor's leg was properly mangled, the beam having crushed it just below the knee. He'd need surgery, maybe amputation, but right now I just needed to keep him from bleeding out. The space we were trapped in was maybe ten feet by six, with unstable debris threatening to shift and crush us at any moment.
Through gaps in the rubble, I could hear the firefight raging on. Adrian was out there somewhere, probably doing something stupidly heroic while Harrison's extraction team closed in.
“Morphine?” Viktor asked, watching me prep a tourniquet.
“In a minute. Need you conscious for now.” I worked fast, using my belt to stem the worst of the bleeding. “Tell me about the building layout. Other ways out?”
“Service shaft on east side. But would need to clear fifteen metres of debris.” He grimaced as I tightened the tourniquet. “Would take hours we do not have.”
Through the rubble, gunfire intensified. Adrian's distinctive pistol barked repeatedly, but it was being answered by automatic weapons. Too many automatic weapons.
“Boss will not retreat,” Viktor said, reading my thoughts. “Not with Harrison so close. He has waited too long for this revenge.”
“Then he's going to die for it,” I snapped, frustrated by the stubborn bastard's death wish. “Harrison's not worth Adrian's life.”
“You do not understand.” Viktor's eyes found mine in the torchlight. “Harrison killed his parents while Adrian listened. Made him into what he is. Such betrayal demands blood payment.”
“Blood payment won't bring them back,” I argued, checking Viktor's pulse. Rapid but steady. “It'll just add Adrian to the body count.”
“Perhaps. But living with incomplete revenge would destroy him slower.” Viktor shifted, suppressing a groan. “You care for him.”
It wasn't a question. “He's my patient.”
“Nyet. Is more.” Despite his pain, Viktor managed what might have been a smile. “Is good. Adrian needs someone who sees man, not just monster.”
Another explosion, closer this time. Dust rained down through cracks in our makeshift shelter.The firefight was moving toward the centre of the warehouse where Adrian had been interrogating Harrison.
“We need to get out of here,” I said, playing the torch beam around our prison while moving toward the massive steel beam that had Viktor pinned. “Adrian needs medical backup, and you need a hospital.”
“Adrian needs Harrison dead,” Viktor corrected through gritted teeth as I began examining how the beam had fallen. “Everything else is secondary.”
“Fuck that.” I braced myself against a chunk of concrete, using it as leverage to test the beam's weight. “Help me figure out how to get you free first.”
The beam was heavy but not impossible—it had landed at an angle, most of its weight supported by debris rather than Viktor's leg. I found a piece of rebar and worked it under the steel, creating a fulcrum point.