Chapter 194 197

Chapter 194 197
Charlotte

I catch a glimpse of Lucio disappearing around the corner.

Then Jacobsen steers me onto the staircase and shoves me up.

“Go,” he orders harshly. “Hurry.”

I don’t wait to be told twice.

I rush up to the next floor up, taking two or three steps at a time.

The rage of explosions and gunfire fills the air. I feel almost giddy with panic. I’m just grateful that Evie’s not here tonight.

I keep going until we reach the next landing.

“Is there a panic room in this place?” Jacobsen demands.

I point down. “It’s underneath. In the basement.”

“Fuck,” he swears, turning to the first door on his right and kicking it open. “Fine. Get in here.”

I realize that we’re not alone. Two other feds follow us into the sparsely furnished common room before the door closes on us.

Jacobsen turns to the two gear-clad men.

“How many?” he asks.

“We didn’t get a good count, sir,” the taller of the two soldiers answers between gasping breaths. “Dozens.”

“We gotta get backup in here, pronto.”

“We made calls,” the second soldier confirms. “They’re on their way.”

“Which means the Polish will have backup on the way, too.” Jacobosen spits on the carpeted floor.

“You went after the wrong don,” I tell him. “Kazimierz is the one you should have taken down first.”

He glares at me. “They’re both the same.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I tell him fiercely. “Lucio may not be a saint, but Kazimierz is the devil. Do you really think he would ever sacrifice himself for his men the way Lucio just did? You can work with Lucio. There’s no working with the Polish.”

“Oh, and you would know?” he snaps at me.

“I would, actually. Better than anyone. And Sonya would, too. I’m surprised she didn’t advise you better.”

“Ms. Prescott no longer working for us,” he tells me brusquely.

I can’t say I’m surprised.

The gunfire is getting more and more pronounced. It sounds like the floor below has been breached. I have a nauseating sense of déjà vu.

“Is your backup coming anytime soon?” I ask. “Because otherwise, we’re all gonna die.”

One of the soldier’s comms light up and he presses the button on the top of the device.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

“The north and east walls have been breached. Our men had to fall back. We’re pinned down right now.”

Jacobsen curses furiously, his eyes darting around the room.

There isn’t much in the way of cover. Only a tall cabinet filled with antiques, a table by the window, and a few lounge chairs arranged over an open carpet.

I hear an agonized scream. It sounds like it’s come from just down the hall.

“We need to get out of this room,” I tell the three men in front of me. “They’ll blast us full of bullets here.”

“Check the windows!” Jacobsen barks at his men.

One soldier runs straight for the windows and starts unlatching them. They’re bulky, so it takes some effort to split them apart from the pane.

But when they swing open, it’s wide enough to allow at least one people to jump out and onto the roof outcropping below.

Agent Jacobsen grabs me by the arm and steers me towards the open windows.

“Go on,” he tells me. “You first. Keep your head down and if you hear gunshots, just keep going.”

I feel my heart skipping in my chest.

The agent and his men might not be allies, but they’re not quite the enemy, either. Not right now, at least. Despite my involvement with the Italians, they’re still trying to protect me.

“What about you?” I ask.

He shoves me towards the window. “We can take care of ourselves,” he snaps. “Just go.”

I’ve got one leg hitched out the window when the doors are smashed down. I recoil from the debris that flies everywhere and cover my head with my arms.

All I hear is gunfire and the blaze of heat soaring around me.

Then…

Silence.

When I look up again, I see five Polish soldiers standing at the front of the room. The only FBI operative still standing is Jacobsen.

He’s bleeding from one arm and sagging to the side, but he’s still got his gun raised.

And his stance is strong. Defiant.

I’m wondering why the Polish haven’t slaughtered him like the others…

When suddenly, they part to allow a sixth person to enter the room.

My body goes cold as Kazimierz walks in between his men. He’s not carrying a weapon. He just ambles in with a smile on his face, hands in his pockets.

“Agent Jacobsen,” he greets, as though they’re old friends. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Kazimierz,” Jacobsen snarls. “Stand down now.”

The Polish don looks around with an amused expression on his face. “Forgive me, have I got this turned around? Because from where I’m standing, it seems as though I’m the one with the power here.”

His eyes move past Jacobsen to me, still caught halfway on the railing.

“Ah, Charlotte Dunn,” he oozes. “How ironic this is. The fake FBI agent cornered right alongside the real one.”

“You shouldn’t have come here, you son of a bitch. You can beat either Lucio or the FBI,” I tell him, trying to sound confident even through my chattering teeth. “But not both together.”

The smile dies on his face.

And his eyes turn furious.

“You’ve given me that fucking bullshit before, bitch,” he snarls, through his teeth. “This time, I came prepared.”

“You’re not the only one who’s prepared. Lucio is not going to like your rude entrance here.”

“I’m glad you brought him up. Where is the poor fellow?” Kazimierz asks mockingly. “Is he dead? Or has he fled already like the coward he is?”

“You’re projecting.”

In all honesty, I don’t know why I keep talking.

Call it false bravado.

Call it panic, nervous energy.

Or maybe I just want to die with a little pride left.

A little fight. A little dignity.

Whatever it is, I can’t seem to stop the words from spilling out of my mouth.

“Lucio is twice the man you are, and you’re going to die here in his home tonight.”

“And who’s going to kill me?” he snarls. “You?”

Before I can answer, more gunshots tear through the house.

Why does everything feel ten times louder now?

The sound reverberates throughout the mansion and echoes inside me like a dirge I can’t escape from.

With every gunshot, I wonder if someone I love has been slaughtered by these monsters.

One of Kazimierz’s men moves forward and whispers something in his ear. I notice a shadow flicker across his face, but he casts it off almost instantly.

“Looks like the party’s coming to us,” the don says simply.

He stretches his hand out and a gun is passed to him. He does it so casually that I don’t even see it coming.

Only once the bullet he fires buries itself in Agent Jacobsen’s chest do I realize what happened.

“No!”

My voice sounds strained and tiny as the agent hits the floor with an agonized groan that’s swallowed up at once by the chaos raging outside the room.

As his eyes close, I realize that there’s nothing standing between the Polish and me anymore.

I turn and swing my second leg out the window.

Close my eyes.