Page 36 of Ashfall
I can barely see out of my right eye, it’s already started to swell. Inside, the space is mostly empty, except for some huge crates and a container in the center of the room. Volokov’s grip is back in my hair, yanking me forward whilst picking up the pace – then the impact. My head slams against the metal container with brutal force, pain slicing through me before my body slumps to a heap on the ground, finally giving in to the darkness that’s caught up to the race in my head.
I don't knowhow long I've been out for, but the concrete floor I’m stuck to is freezing and my limbs feel like they weigh a ton. I don’t dare risk a move as I take inventory of myself. My hands are still tied in front of me.Rookie error. I don’t feel secured to anything, but I'm also too weak for my liking. The thought of allowing myself to be vulnerable sends a shrill streak of terror through my cracked body. I can't be defenseless. My body jerks as a loud voice booms against the walls and I slowly peel open my good eye to identify my surroundings. I’m still on the warehouse floor, and it still feels dark outside. “I don’t give a shit Graves. The deal is off. You don't try to kill me and think you can bark on about loyalty. There is none! If you want the girl, you can pay for her at the auction tomorrow night.”
Shit, he's talking about me? He’s trafficking me? This is the spot they use to transport people. A primal force kicks deep inside me, my pulse surging me awake. I wriggle on the ground, pushing myself up by my elbows and getting into a sitting position, but it doesn’t last long. A sharp pain shoots through myabdomen as I’m booted onto my other side at an awkward angle, my face slamming off the ground. A raw, aching groan rips out of my chest along with a sickening crack as Volokov’s boot connects with my ribs again. I reach for his legs, but he kicks my joined hands out from underneath me. “Nice to see you awake.” He mocks, I can barely breath and wouldn't be surprised if he’s punctured my lung with a splintered rib.
My voice is hoarse and raw when I manage to speak: “You’re certainly not a face I’d be happy waking up to.”
I can feel the anger radiating off him from the floor. “Get up, whore.”
Poison enwreathed in each of his words, and when I look him in the eyes, I spit my bloody saliva in his face. I continue to verbally torment him - if I wasn't apparently worth so much money, my bets are he'd have killed me already. “Eat shit you old fuck.” I need to keep him distracted until I can reach my knife.
His sinister laugh makes my stomach drop as I'm wrenched to my feet, and he cages me in with his arms against the metal wall I was thrown against earlier. “Feisty and a filthy mouth on you. You'll need to learn how to keep that shut for your new owner. And I think… I'll start your lessons right now.”
The fuck you are.
I push forward, the frenzy igniting inside me, but he slams me back and makes another fatal error in my favor. He clasps my forearms against my chest to shove me back against the container. The force bites the back of my head and caresses another blackout, but Volokov keeps his voice low as he taunts me up close. “Don't worry, I'll make sure to send Nocturne the CCTV for a late-night viewing.”
I summon every ounce of raw force in me, my knee coiling up to connect with his groin, catching him off guard as the hands holding me loosen their grip. My thumbs clasp the hilt of the knife in my vest, shaking with anticipation of the single shot Ihave at this. Forcing the blade from its sheath, I glide it between my palms, and it's poetic how I almost look as though I’m saying a prayer. Volokov throws himself against me, arms gripping my forearms. His eyes widen as, when we’re nose to nose, the knife punctures the skin under his chin, slicing through him like butter.
My breath is slamming out of my tattered lungs as I twist it in further, the blood seeping from the incision and drenching my hands. My smile is sinister, eyes widening like a fiend as I speak.
“I think this movie has a better ending, don’t you?”
I twist my shoulder, dragging the knife along his neck. My victory is evident as his lifeless body heaves against me, sliding down the side of my body, leaving a trail of his potent blood. I nudge him off me as the knife slides out his flesh, the most heavenly sounding thump gracing my ears as he collapses to the ground.
I drop to my knees, readjusting the knife and prying the cable ties free. My wrists burn like hell and are an angry shade of various scarlets. My palms are sticky from the pool of blood that flowed over them, and the demon in me screams that I should roll in it - like a dog marking its territory. Volokov is dead, though I know that was too tame compared to what he really deserved. I crawl over his body and pat him over, pulling out his phone and pocketing his gun in my waistband, the process taking me longer than it should with my declining state – ribs, head and lungs have all seen better days. I check the time and curse. It's been five hours since the meeting. I search for Noc’s number, but my fingers hover over the screen, caught in the snare of realization...Blitz.
She needed urgent care. I know that much, even though I couldn't see her close enough to determine where the bullet hit. My body shakes as the wrath takes hold of me - Graves will fucking pay for this. I wheeze to my feet, coughing as my mouthfills with a metallic taste either from my internal organs or my busted lip - it all mixes in together at this point. I'm in bad shape, and I know the pains are going to drag me under as soon as the adrenaline crash comes, and I won't make it through the woods alone if I try to leave.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel snatches my attention, the deep woodland ahead brightening up before me. I drag myself to the right, teeth gritting as I force myself through the agony, crouching behind a panel box beside the stairway. My steps stumble, the weakness almost getting a hold of me. The rough scrape of air threatens to break free, my breath rattling against my chest in its place. I manage to get into position on my stomach to see anyone that might come in the door.
From the crack in the door, it looks like a white van has pulled up. Footsteps crunch as someone calls for Volokov. Just one voice, one set of footsteps - hopefully. The stranger enters the room and freezes when he notices the lifeless body slumped in a heap in front of the container, but he doesn't get to retreat. I send a bullet right into his head, another melodic chime filling me as his body hits the ground.
I hold my breath and focus on listening for further movements, but it’s no use with the state my lungs are in. The air is forced out of me like a racket and I've likely given up my position if there is anyone approaching. But the only sound I hear is the faint buzzing of the industrial lights overhead. It takes me longer than it should to get on my feet and hobble to the door, gun aimed to make sure there's no other idiots ready to fuck with me. I shift back around, forcing myself to return to Volokov’s body, and pulling out his phone from my pocket to take a picture. The snap echoes off the walls as I pull up the last dialed number in his phone, knowing it’s Graves. I send him the photo with the message:You're next Commander, the truth WILL prevail.
I smile to myself. I hope he knows his world has begun to crumble. But the thrill of my threat is quickly snuffed as I try to look for Noc’s number, struggling to find it in the call log - I don’t know it by heart. I go through the contacts and try to figure out which of the numbers would be his when he called, going by the time and dates. “Fuck” I hiss, as I trip backwards. I let myself slide down to the floor, groaning as the pain twines inside my body like barbed wire.
His name isn't saved anywhere, and my fingers start to scroll frantically. I'm only able to find two numbers from four days ago that were incoming calls. One belongs to Graves, so the other needs to be Noc. I hit dial and put it on loudspeaker, my hands trembling as my body violently shudders, the rush finally draining away to let pain take over. It answers after one ring, and I'm met with an eerie silence. “Lev?” My voice is weak and scratchy. I'm fading, but I force myself to focus on the device clutched in my blood-stained hands, but when I blink, they're harder to open again.
“Brodie! Where the fuck are you?” I smile at my success, his voice wrapping around me. But I ignore his question, because I need to know.
“Blitz, is she ok?” He's quiet for a beat and I can hear the muffled racket in the background, followed by car doors shutting. “Noc!” I do my best to shout, but it just catches in my throat, a gurgle in its place.
“She's been taken care of. Where are you? Where's Volokov?” The relief floods through me like a rushing tide, and my weathered heart eases ever so slightly. “Lying next to me.” My tone is dull, full of disdain as I look at his open eyes staring into the void of nothing. I spit on him again for good measure. I hope he's being barbequed in the flames of wherever he's headed.
''I took a picture... I'll send it to you.'' I try to laugh at my words, but the drowsiness is waging a war on me. “Tell mewhere you are, Brodie, please. I need to know where you are. The tracker is dead.”
I screw my eyes together and force them with everything in me to open, the panic in his voice clutching at my heart. “He knew I had one... Threw it out.” I choke on the blood building in my mouth, steadying myself before speaking again. “I’m at the warehouse, the one... The one where I saw you.'' I’m not going to be able to remain conscious to wait for them to come, and anyone could turn up here in that time. Then I would be really screwed. “I know where she is.” It sounds like Phantom's voice, or was that, Adam? Hell, it could have been Noc, but his voice is usually accompanied with the feeling of being wrapped in a velvet shadow of safety. “Twenty minutes, but I'll be there as quickly as I can. Stay on the phone with me baby, talk to me. Tell me how you made him suffer.”
But I don't. It’s an ask I can't do for him, no matter how much I want to share my demonic fight to survive, one that his darkness will equally enjoy. I'm just so tired. Noc’s voice trying to wake me up is the last thing I hear as my eyes close over, finally giving in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
nocturne
Ikept my foot pressed to the gas the entire journey; the navigation said sixty minutes but I got there in just under thirty. The truck's back-end swings aggressively, tires skidding as I fight for control up the road to the warehouse I know all too well. Volokov's jeep comes into view, alongside a white van.Shit. I yank the hand brake up as Phantom trains his gun, pushing out of the vehicle with it raised. We move in sync as we round the jeep. Both of us are stalking and checking inside the van. The passenger side door is ajar with the window blown out. Phantom points his gun in and looks inside since the blacked-out windows shield the interior. “Clear.”
My steps pick up on their own, propelling me to the van. Phantom grabs the back doors, throwing them open as I stand off, gun aimed inside. But it's empty. The chains inside the van rattle my nerves, the realization of their intended purpose turning my blood cold.
