Chapter 157 Anya
The elevator doors opened to darkness.
Not the darkness of night. The darkness of a basement with no windows and broken lights. The air was cold and damp, smelling of mold and rust and something else. Something old. Something forgotten.
Viktor stepped out first, his gun raised, his eyes scanning the shadows. Nadia followed, her weapon ready. I stayed beside Nikolai's bed, my hand still gripping his.
"Clear," Viktor whispered. "For now."
We pushed the bed out of the elevator and into the basement. The wheels squeaked on the concrete floor. Every sound echoed off the walls, loud as gunfire.
"Where is the car?" I asked.
"Loading dock. Fifty meters. Straight ahead."
We moved fast. Nadia took point, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. Viktor pushed the bed from behind. I walked beside Nikolai, watching his face, praying he would not wake up and scream.
Fifty meters. It felt like five hundred.
Gunshots echoed from above. More shouting. Alexander's men were searching room by room. It would not take them long to figure out we had taken the service elevator.
"Faster," I said.
"We are going as fast as we can."
The loading dock appeared ahead. A large metal door, rusted at the edges. Viktor rammed it with his shoulder. It did not move.
"Locked," he said.
"Then unlock it." Nadia's voice was sharp.
Viktor pulled out his gun and shot the lock. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Sparks flew. The door swung open.
Cold air rushed in. The parking lot was empty except for a single black SUV. Viktor's car.
"Almost there," Viktor said.
We pushed the bed across the concrete, toward the SUV. The wheels caught on a crack and Nikolai groaned. His eyes fluttered but did not open.
"Come on," I whispered. "Come on."
We reached the SUV. Viktor opened the back door. Nadia and I lifted Nikolai from the bed and slid him onto the back seat. He was heavy, dead weight, but we managed. I climbed in beside him and pulled his head onto my lap.
Viktor jumped into the driver's seat. Nadia took the passenger side, her gun still drawn.
The engine roared to life.
Gunfire erupted from the loading dock. Three of Alexander's men burst through the door, weapons blazing. Bullets tore through the air. One shattered the rear window. Glass rained down on us.
I screamed and covered Nikolai's body with mine.
Viktor slammed his foot on the gas. The SUV shot forward, tires screeching. More bullets hit the back of the car. The rear windshield exploded. Cold wind whipped through the cabin.
"Hold on!" Viktor shouted.
We sped through the parking lot, toward the exit gate. Another guard stepped out from behind a pillar, raising his gun. Viktor did not slow down. He drove straight at him. The guard dove out of the way at the last second, his bullet going wide.
The gate shattered as we crashed through it. Then we were on the street, speeding away from the hospital, away from Alexander's men, away from death.
I looked back. The hospital grew smaller in the distance. Flashing lights appeared. Police sirens. Ambulances. But I did not know if they were coming to help or to hunt.
"Where do we go?" Nadia asked.
"Safehouse," Viktor said. "The one outside the city. No one knows about it."
"Alexander found every other safehouse."
"This one is different. I built it myself. For emergencies like this."
We drove in silence for a while. The city lights faded behind us. The roads grew darker, emptier. Trees lined both sides, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeleton fingers.
Nikolai's head was heavy on my lap. His breathing was shallow but steady. I stroked his hair and tried not to cry.
"He is going to be okay," Nadia said, looking back at me. "He survived worse."
"How do you know?"
"Because I read his file. Every wound. Every surgery. Every time he almost died." She paused. "He is stubborn. Stubborn men do not die easily."
I wanted to believe her. But belief felt like a luxury I could not afford.
An hour later, we pulled off the main road onto a dirt path hidden by overgrown bushes. The SUV bounced over rocks and roots, splashing through puddles, until a small cabin appeared in the moonlight.
It was old. Wooden. Surrounded by forest on all sides. No neighbors. No lights. No road signs. Just trees and darkness and silence.
"Home sweet home," Viktor said.
He parked the car and killed the engine. Nadia got out first, her gun sweeping the treeline. Viktor opened my door and helped me out. Together, we carried Nikolai inside.
The cabin was small but clean. One bedroom. A living room with a fireplace. A kitchen with a wood-burning stove. Viktor lit a kerosene lamp and placed it on the table.
"We have no electricity out here," he said. "No phone. No internet. No way for anyone to track us."
"How long do we stay?" I asked.
"Until Nikolai can walk. Then we leave the country."
"We leave Russia?"
"If we want to live." Viktor's face was hard. "Alexander will not stop. He has resources we do not know about. Men we have not identified. The only way to survive is to disappear completely."
I looked at Nikolai, lying on a cot in the corner. His face was pale, his lips cracked, his bandages stained with blood. He looked nothing like the powerful man I had married. He looked broken. Human.
"What about Nadia?" I asked.
"She goes back to Moscow. She has a job to finish. Alexander is still out there. Someone has to bring him down."
Nadia nodded. "I will not rest until he is dead or in a cell. You have my word."
I wanted to thank her. But the words would not come. My throat was too tight. My chest was too heavy.
Nadia must have understood because she nodded again and walked to the door. "I will call when I know more. Stay hidden. Trust no one."
She left. The door closed. Viktor busied himself building a fire in the hearth.
I sat on the floor beside Nikolai's cot and took his hand.
"We are going to be okay," I whispered. "We are going to survive this. Together."
His fingers twitched in mine. His lips moved, forming words I could not hear.
"Nikolai?" I leaned closer.
His eyes opened. Glassy. Unfocused. But open.
"Anya," he whispered.
"I am here. I am not going anywhere."
"Alexander..."
"Is gone. For now. Viktor got us out. We are safe."
He tried to sit up but I pushed him back down. "Rest. Heal. We have a long road ahead."
"Where are we?"
"A cabin. In the woods. Viktor's safehouse."
Nikolai's eyes searched the room, taking in the shadows, the firelight, the unfamiliar walls. Then they found mine.
"I dreamed you were dead," he said. "I dreamed Alexander killed you and I could not do anything. I could not save you."
"It was just a dream."
"It felt real."
"None of it was real." I kissed his forehead. "I am here. I am alive. And so are you."
He closed his eyes again. His breathing slowed. But his hand did not let go of mine.
I stayed there, watching the fire, listening to the wind outside, feeling the weight of everything we had lost and everything we still had.
Viktor sat across the room, his back against the wall, his gun in his lap. He was watching the door. Waiting. Protecting.
"How did you know?" I asked. "How did you know to come to the hospital?"
"I did not know. I was driving back when I saw them. Black cars. Armed men. Heading the same direction." He shrugged. "I followed my gut."
"Your gut saved our lives."
"My gut has been wrong before. This time, it was right."
We sat in silence for a while. The fire crackled. The wind howled. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called out.
"Nadia will call when she has news," Viktor said. "Until then, we wait."
"I am tired of waiting."
"I know. But waiting is better than dying."
I looked down at Nikolai. At the rise and fall of his chest. At the slow and steady beating of his heart.
He was right. Waiting was better than dying.
The fire burned lower. The room grew darker. I laid my head on the edge of Nikolai's cot and closed my eyes.
And in the darkness, I heard something. Footsteps. Outside the cabin. Soft. Careful. Trying not to be heard.
My eyes snapped open.
Viktor was already on his feet, gun raised, moving toward the window.
Someone was out there.