Page 52 of Under His Protection

“We’re leaving Cole,” I announce, my voice casual, nonchalant. “Tell your men to step down.”

Cole hesitates, his eyes darting around, searching for a loophole, a way out of this unexpected turn of events. His men follow his gaze, waiting for his orders. I press the heavy gun against his temple, the cold metal meeting his soft flesh. “Now,” I say, my voice chilling, a whisper that surprises me with its ice-cold edge.

“Do as say, or this devushka will put bullet in head.” Katerina’s voice slices through the air, her icy gaze fixed on Cole.

Cole’s face drains of color. He nods curtly to his men. “Let them go,” he murmurs.

His men hesitate, trying to maintain a last shred of control before submitting. “Now!” Cole roars. They scramble to obey, ushering the girls towards the exit in a surge of rapid movement.

I keep the gun trained on Cole, a steady force against his skull, while Katerina helps Alexander to his feet. Zara and Anya join them, their faces strained, their bodies pushing beyond their perceived limits. They’re strong, stronger than they think themselves.

Emily helps Michelle to her feet. Their movements are slow and labored, and their bodies are weakened by the ordeal. But they’re alive.

“Are you coming, Katerina?” I ask, my voice emotionless, my gaze fixed on the exit. The gun remains pressed against Cole’s head, a constant reminder of my control.

“Is okay? I can?” Her eyes widen. “Devushka, sure?”

“You can,” I answer coolly.

I back away slowly, never taking my eyes off Cole. “Move,” I command, gesturing toward the exit with the gun. “And don’t try anything stupid.”

I need to take him to the entrance and lead him like a lamb to the slaughter. Then, I’ll usher the girls outside in a quick, calculated maneuver. We’ll make a run for it.

Cole, his face numb, walks ahead, hands raised in surrender, a marionette on a string. I follow close behind, Katerina, Alexander, and the girls flanking me. The other girls trail behind. Michelle and Emily are bringing up the rear, a procession of the rescued.

I shove Cole towards the exit doors, his hands still raised. The girls surge forward behind us. I only need him a little longer.

Almost there.

I glance back. Briefly, a flicker of movement catches my eye, but then I turn back to Cole as he spins around, a blur of motion. His hands drop, his fingers seizing a small black gun strapped to his ankle. It's a viper strike—quick, deadly.

"Fuck," I curse, the word a choked whisper. Another gun?

Before anyone can react, he raises the gun and fires into the group of girls. The deafening roar of the gunshot reverberates through the warehouse like a sickening echo.

Chaos erupts. The woman hit stumbles back, panic spreading like wildfire. A cloud of debris explodes from the impact, creating a swirling dust storm that obscures the scene.

My eyes lock onto a crumpled figure on the floor, dark hair spilling around her. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder.

“Nooo!” A strangled cry rips from my throat, echoing Alexander’s gasp. “Michelle!” My voice cracks, a scream tearing through the scene.

The back of her head is a mangled ruin, with blood and bone grotesquely exposed on the cold concrete floor. The metallic scent hits me with sickening force, bile rising in my throat.

“No!” I scream again.

In that split second, my hand tightens on the gun. My finger pulls the trigger before my mind fully processes the scene. The shot explodes from the barrel, a violent counterpoint to the silent scream in my soul.

Cole staggers back, clutching his side. A dark stain spreads across his beige suit. His face contorts in pain, and his carefully constructed facade of arrogance crumbles like dust.

“You bitch!” he screams, his voice a ragged gasp. “You fuckin’ shot me!”

But I have no time for him, no energy for his rage. All that matters is Michelle, her lifeless body sprawled on the concrete, eyes staring blankly at the spotlights on the ceiling. And Alexander, clutching his chest, face ashen, his breath a shallow, rattling whisper.

“Get our girls!” I shout, my voice rough. I usher the terrified women toward the door, my gaze darting between Cole, now slumped against a stack of crates, his breathing labored, and Alexander, struggling to stay conscious.

Michelle is gone.

“Katerina,” I say, my voice sharp, urgent. “You know a way out?”

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