Chapter 67 RUN GIRL, RUN

Chapter 67 RUN GIRL, RUN

I follow Blade into the building, my heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The entrance is dim, lit with muted reds and purples. A faint scent of alcohol and perfume hangs in the air. I don’t know her name beyond Blade, and she doesn’t speak, only moving with a confidence I can’t quite imitate. Dante told me to trust her, but trust is a luxury I can’t afford tonight.

The plan is simple. Go into the Russian section of the club, find Dmitir, get the package, leave. I understand the language, which helps. It’s supposed to be easy. I’m a distraction. No one suspects a woman in here. Men look at me, yes, but they don’t notice what I’m really doing. They think I’m one more pretty face to flirt with, one more body to burn a night on.

Blade glances at me, sharp, wordless, and I follow quietly behind her. The club is loud, music pumping through the walls like a heartbeat. People lean on the bars, talk over the music, the clinking of glasses punctuating their sentences. I take it all in, careful. I need to be invisible and unforgettable at the same time.

We approach the Russian section. A pair of bouncers stop us at the threshold. Blade speaks, her words clipped and firm. They nod and step aside. She doesn’t even look at me as we enter. I try not to panic. My pulse races. I remind myself that I’m not just a woman here. I’m Anya. I’m Dante’s woman. I have a job.

The room is different. The light is colder, harsher. Men lean into corners, some playing cards, others watching the dance floor with a predator’s gaze. I feel it immediately. This is their world. Blade hands me a small device, something I can hide easily. She nods at me, and I nod back. No questions. That’s not part of the plan.

I scan the room. I know Dmitir’s face from the photo Dante gave me. I keep my eyes low, moving slowly, casually. Men glance at me, some approach, but I smile, flirt just enough to stay unnoticed, to stay safe. My body is a tool tonight. My smile, my laugh, my hair brushing my shoulders. All distractions. I focus on one thing. Dmitir.

I spot him near the back, leaning against a table, talking to a man I don’t recognize. He’s taller than I imagined, broad shoulders, dark hair, intense eyes that scan the room like he owns it. My stomach tightens. I approach him carefully. He notices me instantly. His eyes flick to the flash drive Blade gave me and back to me. Recognition flashes, subtle but real.

I move closer, slow, deliberate, letting the atmosphere do the work. He smiles, just slightly, and I know it’s him. My pulse jumps. He reaches under the table and hands me the package. It’s small, unassuming, but I feel the weight of it in my hands. Every second stretches like hours.

I hand him the flag drive and his fingers wrap tightly around it.

I stand up and walk straight to the door, I'm about to leave when I hear a loud bang followed by screams.

A commotion erupts. Men shout. The music doesn’t stop, but I hear it differently. Their voices are sharp, angry. I turn just in time to see two men pull guns from their coats. Dmitir freezes. My heart stops. They know. They’ve found out he stole the package.

They fire. I duck instinctively, the gunshots tearing through the noise. Dmitir drops to the floor. I rush toward him, but my mind is screaming at me to stay back. I freeze, breathing fast. Something isn’t right. When the men reach him, they realize he doesn’t have the package. It’s gone. It's with me.

“No one leaves the building until we find the flash drive,” a voice roars. I feel the weight of it hit me in the chest. The Russians are panicked, controlled chaos spreading like wildfire. The men search, turning the club upside down. My hands tighten around the package. I feel the cold metal in my pocket, the device secure.

I don’t know if Dmitir is alive. I don’t know if anyone is watching me. I only know I have to get out. My legs feel heavy, adrenaline pulsing through every vein. I glance at Blade. She’s calm, moving with precision, eyes scanning. She gestures subtly, and I follow, ducking behind tables, weaving through shadows.

My mind races. Dante. I need to get this to Dante. I feel the heat of his warning in my chest. One wrong move, and it won’t just be them paying the price. I could die here, in this room, in this moment. But I have a job to do. I have to get out.

I move closer to the exit, feeling eyes on me. Men are everywhere, searching, shouting, pointing. I keep my face neutral, my posture casual, pretending to be part of the chaos. One man steps in my path, eyes narrowing. I smile, tilt my head just enough to distract him, and slip past. My pulse is deafening.

The package is warm against my side. My fingers brush the device repeatedly, checking it, holding it close. I feel my blood roaring in my veins.

I hear a shout. Someone has spotted me? I don't know but I run. I don’t stop. I can’t. The exit is close. My heels clack against the floor, the sound drowned in the chaos. I glance back once, seeing men pushing through tables, guns raised at me.