She yanks off the mask, and my jaw drops as Drazen Krylov smiles cruelly up at her.
“Surprise, shlyushka.”
The lights go out. The guards roar and turn on gun-mounted flashlights. In the shadows, the man bound on the floor suddenly springs to his feet.
And his balaclava suddenly glows.
Two X’s for eyes.
A leering, neon smile.
Two flashes of steel in his hands.
And then comes the carnage.
Gunfire explodes. Men’s screams turn to wet, gasping gurgles. In the dim, flickering light, I see Drazen shake off the men pinning him. He whirls, savagely yanking a rifle out of one of the guards’ hands and immediately using it to blow a hole through the man’s head. I scream as he spins again, his face expressionless and cold as he cuts down half of the guards seemingly without any emotion at all.
Behind him, my neon-masked psychopath snarls and dips and dodges, cutting one man down, then another, and another.
I gasp sharply as I’m grabbed from behind. A blade cuts the ropes off me, and an arm wraps around my throat from behind. I choke, flailing and trying to scream as Amaya drags me away from the fray.
The neon mask turns to us. It tilts to the side and lets out a snarl of pure animalistic fury. Kratos charges across the carnage toward us, the knives in his hands glinting.
Suddenly, the cold metal of a gun barrel pushes against my temple. Instantly, Kratos stops. He reaches up and yanks off the mask, his face twisted with rage and worry as his eyes stab into me.
“Babygirl…” he says quietly.
I’m about to open my mouth when I feel cold air rippling up my legs. I glance behind me, and my heart lurches into my throat.
Amaya has us standing right by one of the glassless floor-to-ceiling window-frames overlooking the black river below. The sounds of traffic blare from outside. The lights of the city glitter like diamonds. Another gust of air ripples the construction plastic wrap covering some of the other window frames.
“Not another step, Kratos,” she whispers.
Her arm trembles a little as she grips me tightly. Her other arm juts out, brandishing the gun at Kratos. But she’s lost her advantage. Behind Kratos, all the Chernoff men lie on the ground, either dead or out cold. Drazen stands in the middle of them, looking nothing like the put-together, suit-wearing businessman I’ve met before, and everything like a blood-soaked monster.
“You lost, Amaya,” Kratos growls quietly. “It’s over. Let her go.”
Amaya shakes her head, her fingers tightening around the gun.
“I—Kratos…”
I hear her swallow behind me as my eyes fix on my husband’s.
“We…you and I…” she chokes. “We—”
“There never was a we, you miserable cunt,” he snarls viciously. “We never dated,” he hisses. “What you did to me was never a relationship.”
“Kratos…” Her voice breaks.
“You stole my fucking childhood, you goddamned psycho,” Kratos growls. “You raped a fucking child and convinced yourself you were in love.” He shakes his head. “That wasn’t love. I didn’t want that. It was torture. I fucking hated you for it.”
The breath leaves her body in a rush.
“And I still fucking do. So let her go. Because every second you keep me from my wife,” he rasps, “whom I love, is another hour I’ll drag out your suffering before I kill you.”
“You… You needed me, Kratos!” she screams.
“Like I needed a hole in my head, you psycho bitch. Let. Her. GO.”
The room is silent and still. Amaya shakes as she keeps hold of me. Slowly, I watch her thumb draw back the hammer on her gun.
My eyes start from my head as her lips curl into a sneer.
“No.”
Everything goes into slow motion. I shriek as the gun goes off. The bullet explodes out and punches through the air just as Kratos lurches toward us. My scream sounds like it’s underwater, a slow, drawn-out wail as the bullet slams into Kratos’ chest. Blood explodes out of his back like a ketchup packet popping.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow. He just mouths the words “I love you” as his eyes lock on mine and he grabs me out of her arms and tosses me to safety.
My head snaps around. My breath leaves my body and my heart rips in two as Kratos slams into Amaya and the two of them topple backward.
Out the window, and into the night.
I scream so loud my ears pop, scrambling to my feet and bolting for the window. The silence is punctuated by a loud splash of water way down below. My fingers cling to the edges of the window frame, my eyes wide as I stare down into the inky blackness, waiting for him to surface.
And waiting.
He’s not coming up.
