Page 86 of Emerald

Once outside the dining room, I can see a little better, as the windows to the outside let in a small amount of moonlight. I find myself at the base of a staircase leading up to the second floor.

Before I’ve taken two steps toward it, someone starts shooting at me, the bullets whipping so close past my ear I can almost feel the heat. I duck down and press myself against the wall, trying to figure out where the shots are coming from.

A sleek, modern urn explodes next to me. I scramble up into the staircase instead.

I know where the shots are coming from now—two more goons down the end of the hallway.

I take the rifle down off my shoulder and pull the rod back to chamber a round. I flip off the safety and bring the butt of the gun up to my shoulder.

I’m waiting for the guards to come down the hallway. They probably aren’t sure if they hit me, or if I ran up the stairs.

I hear the footsteps of one guard, but I know there were two of them. I keep waiting. Sure enough, I hear the second one scuffling out after his colleague.

Once they’re both out from cover, I round the corner of the staircase and shoot them both. The first one falls straight to the floor. The second one fires off three more rounds as he falls, but they shoot harmlessly up into the ceiling.

I hear a lot more gunfire coming from outside. I know that’s got to be Dom storming the house, though I told him not to do it. His orders were to cut the power if he could, then get Zima out again.

But I have to admit, I’m grateful he didn’t listen. From the sounds of it, without the distraction outside, I’d have a dozen more men piling in on me.

I don’t know how long Dom will be able to hold them off. I hope he’s smart enough to get out when they get too close and not get pinned down anywhere.

I don’t know how many more men might be inside, besides the five I’ve incapacitated. So I have to creep up the staircase slowly, clearing each bend with the AR at the ready, though I’m desperate to run up the stairs full speed to find Sloane.

Remizov’s house isn’t nearly as large as the monastery, but it’s big enough. Once I’m up to the second level, I have no idea which way to go. Until I see a scattering of tiny beads gleaming in the dim light. Dark red, like tiny droplets of blood. Torn from Sloane’s dress.

I stalk through the reading room, silent as a panther.

And then I catch sight of them through the French glass doors, standing out on the balcony.

I approach slowly, the rifle up on my shoulder, pointed directly at Remizov.

I push through the doors.

Remizov is standing a dozen yards away, his back against the balcony railing. With the AR I could hit him from three hundred yards, even in the dim light. But he’s holding Sloane directly in front of him with a gun pointed at her ribs.

I can see he’s disappointed I’m alive. Sloane is the exact opposite. Her relief is palpable. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I might even think those were tears sparkling in her eyes.

She doesn’t cry out this time, however. She knows our situation has hardly improved.

“Let go of her,” I say to Remizov. “I’ll put down the rifle. I came here for Sloane—I don’t give a shit about killing you.”

A few days ago, I wanted revenge on Remizov more than anything in the world.

But now, if I can just walk out of here with Sloane safe and alive, that’s the only thing that matters.

Remizov, however, has no intention of letting go of his shield.

He’s only an inch or two taller than Sloane. Standing directly behind her, there’s no way I can shoot him without hitting her as well.

He wants to wait this out.

He can hear the sounds of the firefight down in the yard as well as I can. If his men win, they’ll come up here and riddle me with bullets. If they lose, he can still shoot Sloane before I kill him.

Either way, I’m fucked.

I can see Sloane making the same calculation.

She’s running through our options exactly as I am. They are limited in the extreme.

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