Page 156 of Vendetta Crown

The once-elegant space is pure destruction. Seats torn from their moorings. Twisted metal. Plaster and dust everywhere. The ceiling has partially collapsed, exposing electrical wires that spark and hiss like angry vipers.

Then, a sound that stops my heart.

"Ruslan..." she calls back.

It's barely audible above the groaning building. But unmistakably her.

I follow her voice, clambering over broken chairs and fallen rafters. "Keep talking,zarechka! Where are you?"

"Here... I'm here..."

I spot her near a wall next to a row of seats, pinned beneath a massive form. Kristofer.

That fucking monster tried to claim her even in death.

When I reach her, my knees almost buckle.

She's covered in blood. Her face, her clothes, her hands. For one terrible moment, I think it's hers. Then I see the knife handle protruding from Kristofer's neck.

Aurora's eyes meet mine. Wild, haunted, but alive. So gloriously alive.

"You killed him," I whisper, a surge of pride cutting through my terror.

"I had to," she gasps. "He was going to?—"

"Later," I tell her. "We need to go. Now."

I roll Kristofer's corpse off her, his dead weight sliding away with a sickening thud. His eyes stare upward, surprised in death like he couldn't believe his obsession finally fought back.

Another explosion rocks the building. The ceiling directly above the screen is starting to crumble.

I scoop Aurora into my arms, her body trembling against mine. She clutches my shirt with bloody fingers as I pivot toward the exit.

"The babies," she whispers against my neck. "Our babies..."

"They'll be alright," I promise, though I have no right to make such promises. "We're all going to be alright."

I cradle her against my chest and run, dodging falling debris. The smoke is thicker now, black and choking. The heat blisters my skin as we pass a wall of fire.

The ceiling caves in behind us as we reach the lobby. The front doors hang from broken hinges, and through them I see flashing lights, people running.

Freedom. Safety. Life.

I tighten my grip on Aurora and make the final sprint just in time as the building groans its death knell.

42

AURORA

The doctor'svoice fades in and out like a badly tuned radio. "You're lucky your husband got to you when he did, Mrs. Dragunov. Another few minutes and?—"

My head throbs with each syllable. Words like "collapsed," "debris," and "critical" float through my head, but I don't seem to take in a single one of them.

"Multiple fractures in your left hand. We've set the bones, but there may be permanent damage."

I stare at the bandaged mess of my left hand. It doesn't even feel attached to my body anymore.

"Your trachea sustained significant trauma from the strangulation attempt. Thankfully not crushed, but you'll experience soreness and difficulty swallowing for several weeks."

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