Page 157 of The Lazarov Bratva

“Thank you for your time, Doctor Barnadon,” comes Kristof’s voice.

Gripping the banister, I hurry down the stairs and the awning fades, giving way to the entranceway below where Kristof stands with Barnadon, shaking hands.

A few more steps, and Doctor Barnadon turns around to pick up his case.

A few more steps, and my lips part to call out to him, to ask him to wait because I have more questions for him. The words don’t come.

As Doctor Barnadon’s back is turned, Kristof removes the pistol from his belt and shoots Doctor Barnadon in his back three times without a second thought.

My building words give way to a short scream of horror, and I slip on the steps, crashing down on my backside, still gripping the banister. Barnadon collapses forward in slow motion, slumping into a heap on the patterned rug by the door with a solid, wet thump.

No one else flinches. Two men appear from the right-hand hallway and begin rolling up the body as if it’s a common occurrence.

They move sluggishly as if time is struggling to catch up with the rampant shock of my thoughts. Uncontrollable tears flood my eyes as I tear my gaze away from the body and lock eyes with Kristof.

Why? Why did he kill the doctor?

“Alena?” Kristof’s face slowly twists from surprise to confusion.

“What—” I choke out. “How…?”

He was the one called here by Kristof to help us. How could he extend such an invitation and in the same breath, turn around and shoot him like he’s nothing?

It hits me like a slap in the face, knocking the rose-tinted glasses away from my eyes and replacing my world with a stark, cold reality.

Because Kristof is a killer. He has been and will always be a killer.

And he’s going to be a father?

Blood pools around Barnadon’s body, dripping from the rug and onto the smooth oak wood paneling floor as his body is wrapped up.

Is this a glimpse into my future? Will I end up like that if I make a misstep or we disagree on something to do with the baby?

Am I really as safe here as I'd tricked myself into believing?

It’s difficult to decipher whether my true horror comes from seeing the doctor murdered right before my eyes or the fleeting triggered flashes of Chek dying in my mind the same way.

My skin crawls, my gut churns, and a molten heat steals across the back of my neck.

Kristof takes one step forward and my chest constricts.

I have to get out of here!

I turn and flee back up the stairs, taking them two at a time in desperation to escape. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I have to get away from that corpse and Kristof with his smoking gun.

“Alena!” he calls after me, but I ignore it.

The carpet catches my toes at the top of the stars, fibers rising to halt my escape and keep me within reach of Kristof, but I throw myself forward and sprint down the hallway.

Tears fly from my lashes and streak my cheeks as I run, my feet pounding in time to my racing heart until I crash into a solid, warm body as it exits a room.

“Alena?”

Andrev catches me before the impact can send me crashing to the floor. He grips my upper arms, holding me steady, and when his face swims into view, his smile curves down in concern.

“Alena, what’s the matter?”

“He’s dead,” I gasp out, saliva flooding under my tongue and drowning my words. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

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