Page 74 of Shadows of the Past
Vlad's small army waits, shadows among shadows, tense and ready. A singular directive from me through the encrypted comms. “Go. Andrea is the only priority. She gets out alive. Everyone else is expendable.”
Julia, Akim, and I move in behind the initial assault team, weapons held ready, the familiar weight settling in our hands. We haven't even crossed the threshold when chaos erupts.
Two of Semenov’s guards burst from a side door, weapons raised, spitting fire. They stand no chance against the disciplined wave of Vlad's men forming our front line. Bullets whine past, impacting walls, shattering decor. We all wear reinforced vests, but instinct screams louder than logic.
My head snaps toward Julia, eyes scanning her for any sign of impact, any flinch of pain. She catches my look and shakes her head almost imperceptibly, but I know what she’s telling me:I’m fine, stop hovering. But the primal, protective urge clawing inside me doesn't settle until I've verified it myself.
We reach the top of the main staircase, the sounds of gunfire echoing from below. We split, Akim going right, Julia and me left, kicking open doors, clearing rooms methodically.
According to the intel, Semenov is fifty-eight, likely not a physical threat himself. Even alerted, what damage could he do? He doesn't know the real reason we're here. Not yet.
Just as we reach the last door on the left corridor, Akim's voice crackles in my earpiece, tight with controlled urgency. "Got her. Fourth door on the right. She's here."
Julia and I pivot, moving fast and silently toward his position. We burst into the room. And there she is. Andrea. Handcuffed to a radiator, looking small and pale in the sudden intrusion of tactical lights. Her hair is darker now, a washed-out, ashy blonde. Her green eyes, wide with shock and fear, seem older,haunted. But physically…she appears unharmed. No visible wounds, no blood. Just the stark reality of her captivity.
I watch Akim struggle with the cuffs binding Andrea to the radiator. The metal groans but doesn't yield. He curses under his breath, realizing we need either keys or bolt cutters. As he steps back, frustrated, Andrea’s hand darts out, grabbing his arm with desperate strength.
"Please," she whimpers, her voice thin and raspy, "don't leave me here!"
A flicker of something raw, something deeply uncharacteristic, crosses Akim’s face, which is usually stoic in moments like these. He covers her small hand with his own, his voice rough but surprisingly gentle. "We're here for you, malyshka."
He glances back, catches my raised eyebrow. That term of endearment…it’s jarring, unexpected coming from him. He just shakes his head curtly, dismissing my silent question, his eyes already scanning the room for anything heavy enough to break the cuffs.
A few seconds later, Andrea’s tear-filled gaze lands on Julia, who stands framed in the doorway, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Recognition dawns, followed by disbelief.
"You?" Andrea breathes, her voice cracking. "My God, you're alive!"
Julia moves swiftly to her side, sinking to her knees before the trapped girl. "I'm so sorry I couldn't do more back then," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.
This woman…her relentless goodness is going to be the death of me. She did too much. The scars crisscrossing her back are brutal proof.
"It's me who's sorry," Andrea chokes out, tears finally spilling over, "for what those bastards did to you."
A phantom heat flares across my palm, the ghost memory of the whip handle searing my skin.
"Let's get you out of here," Julia murmurs, her eyes lifting to meet mine.We're running out of time. Where the hell is Filip?
"Anyone found Semenov yet?" I demand into the comms, the question tight with impatience.
Static crackles for a moment, then a clipped voice responds. "Found him. Bringing him to your location now, Mr. Rastovski."
That goddamn name. It grates every time. When two of Vlad’s soldiers haul Filip into the room, I understand instantly why he and Ivan are friends. He’s small, soft, with the resentful eyes of a man who’s never earned genuine affection, only ever taken it by force.
Andrea flinches violently at the sight of him, trying to shrink back against the cold metal of the radiator. Julia immediately positions herself protectively in front of the girl, her machine gun leveled squarely at Filip’s chest.
"The keys. Now," Julia commands, her voice dangerously low, lethal. "And I promise not to empty this entire magazine into you."
A dark, predatory smile curves my lips against my will. The sheer authority radiating from her, the effortless power she wields holding that weapon…it conjures sudden, vivid dreams of her beneath me, pinned, breathless, her voice uttering commands just like that.
"Don't know who the hell you are," Filip spits, venom dripping from his words, "but you can take her. Useless bitch anyway." He fumbles behind his back, tossing a small key onto the floor near Julia’s feet. His watery eyes then find mine, andan ugly laugh escapes him. "Look at the snake Ivan harbors in his own house. You don't deserve the name you carry, boy," he sneers, the hatred boiling off him palpable.
I don't bother responding. He's not worth the breath.
My focus shifts back to Julia as she swiftly unlocks the cuffs, freeing Andrea. Akim is there instantly, helping Andrea to her feet, then sweeping her carefully into his arms.
As Julia straightens, her gaze lands on Filip, cold and assessing. She looks at the two soldiers flanking him.
"Give us some room, please," she requests, her tone deceptively polite.
