Page 78 of Fight

Twenty-Four

Ioan

“P!”

I called for her and then ran toward her.

She had been crawling, and when I got to her I could see the blood rush from her head, see her face was swollen.

I also saw the gun that she still held in loose fingers.

“P!” I said, still urgent but not yelling as I had been before.

She let out some small sound, somewhere between a wail and a sigh, but it was enough to tell me that she was still alive.

The relief I felt in that moment was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

When I’d found out where she was, I wouldn’t let myself acknowledge the fact that I was probably too late. It would have destroyed me.

Whatever Markov’s fucked reasons, he wouldn’t let a chance to kill her pass him by again, so I knew that each second that passed was one that made it less and less likely that she would live.

But I had found her, and she was alive. The tight fist of worry in my chest finally loosened enough for me to draw breath.

I reached for her, let my fingers graze her face, but then stopped, not wanting to hurt her.

And there was another matter to attend to.

I turned to look at Markov, who was on his knees. His entire shirt, once white, was stained brown-red as brighter red blood gushed out of his face.

I took the gun from P, let my gaze linger on her for just a moment.

And then, I walked toward him.

I was outwardly calm, but inside, the only emotion I felt was rage, intense, lethal, enough to overwhelm me.

I focused, though. Stopped in front of Markov.

“Did she do that to you?”

“Yeah! The bitch broke my nose,” he said.

His voice came out high-pitched, and he grasped at his nose, holding it, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

“And what did you do to her?” I asked, wondering if Markov thought he’d done something wrong, whether he would admit that.

“Nothing she didn’t deserve. You owe me. Big. A measly six hundred grand is not gonna cut it this time. I want a million, and I want Ciprian’s head. That fucker killed my guard and left me!”

I squatted down in front of Markov so that I was eye to eye with him.

When he looked at me, really glanced at my face, I saw the dawning realization in his eye, saw it grow more intense as I reached up. That shouldn’t have pleased me as much as it did, but knowing Markov knew that I was going to end his life gave me deep satisfaction.

He tried to move, avoid what he now knew was coming, but I didn’t give him the chance.

I pressed the gun against his chest and pulled the trigger.

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