Page 115 of Savage Saint
Ten minutes.
My muscles coil with barely contained energy. Five more minutes. Just five more fucking minutes before I can move. Before I can do something other than sit here like a caged animal while she faces God knows what alone.
Eleven minutes.
What if she's walked into a trap? What if Jerzy knew we were coming? The paranoid fuck has eyes everywhere, tentacles reaching into every shadow of the underworld. One whisper, one glimpse of us in the city, and he could have—
Twelve minutes.
Stop.I force the thoughts down, lock them away with all the other fears that serve no purpose. Doubt is death in our world. She's fine. She's hunting. She's doing what she was born to do.
Thirteen minutes.
The guard rotation should begin soon. Three guards will move to new positions, creating a thirty-second gap in coveragenear the servant's entrance. Kasia memorised every detail, every pattern. She'll use it.
A bead of sweat trickles down my spine despite the cool night air.
Fourteen minutes.
Almost time. My hand moves to the door handle, every muscle ready to spring into action. The guard at the gate yawns, checking his watch. He's counting down too, eager for his shift to end.
He has no idea this one will be his last.
Movement catches my eye. Not at the gate, but in my peripheral vision. My heart stops for a moment before I recognise the pattern. Three quick flashes from a penlight in an upper window. Kasia's signal. She's in position.
Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds.
The guard stretches, rolls his shoulders. His replacement should arrive any moment. When the rotation begins, I'll have that thirty-second window to eliminate him and breach the gate.
Fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds.
There—approaching footsteps from inside the compound. The relief guard, right on schedule.
Fifteen minutes.
The door opens quietly. I'm out and moving before the guard can finish his yawn, my footsteps silent on the frost-kissed grass. He starts to turn, perhaps sensing death approaching, but he's far too slow.
The suppressed Beretta coughs once. A wet thud as he drops, dead before his body hits the ground. The relief guard is still inside, probably bullshitting in the guard room, buying me precious seconds.
I drag the body into the shadows, then slip through the gate. The compound sprawls before me, a maze of buildings andcourtyards I've memorised from blueprints but never seen in person.
The path Kasia took is barely visible. A ghost trail through overgrown hedges and forgotten corners. She knew shortcuts the architects never drew, passages carved by a child trying to escape notice.
I press against cold stone walls, every sense straining. Somewhere in this labyrinth, she's hunting the man who destroyed her childhood. Or he's hunting her.
The thought spurs me forward, deeper into the beast's lair.
A door hangs slightly ajar, old servants' quarters, according to the plans. The hinges are well-oiled, silent as I ease through. The corridor beyond is narrow, meant for staff to move unseen. Perfect.
My footsteps are barely audible against worn carpet as I navigate by instinct. Left at the first junction, straight through the old kitchen, up the back stairs that once carried breakfast trays and dirty linens.
With each step deeper into the compound, the walls seem to press closer. This place reeks of old violence, of secrets soaked into the very stones. How many times did Kasia walk these halls with blood on her hands? How many times did she return from missions to face Jerzy's cold evaluation?
A sound freezes me. Footsteps above, heavy and purposeful. Guards, from the rhythm. Two of them, maybe three. I press into an alcove as they pass overhead, their boots thundering like a distant storm.
When silence returns, I continue upward. She'll go to Jerzy's office first, then to his private chambers if he's not there. The office holds his records, his secrets. She wants answers as much as she wants blood.
Another sound stops me, not footsteps this time, but something worse. A woman's cry, sharp and sudden, cutting through the walls like a blade.
