Page 101 of Power's Fall

“You wasted my time,” the Spaniard rumbled, anger lacing his words. “Pious asshole.”

Footsteps thudded, hard and fast, and then Dahlia heard a gagging sound. Gagging…or choking.

Their escape plan required Sinaver, and she was fairly certain the Spaniard was currently killing their intended hostage.

Vadisk must have come to the same conclusion. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shot her a sharp glance. Dahlia rolled out of the way of the door, fetching up against Montana’s legs. He looked down at her, eyes wide in question.

“The Spaniard is killing Sinaver.”

Montana cursed, grabbing the gun as Vadisk yanked the door open.

“Eyes,” he snapped.

Dahlia had no idea what that meant, but Montana did because he crouched, wrapping a hand around the back of her head and pulling her face against his shoulder. There was a loud bang.

“A flash grenade,” Montana whispered to her.

That explained Vadisk’s warning about covering their eyes. Then Montana was up and moving. Dahlia scrambled to her feet, the gun Vadisk had given her clenched in one hand. She cleared the door and stopped, taking in the dramatic tableau.

The Spaniard had Sinaver pinned to the wall by the throat. The man’s toes barely touched the ground. Sinaver’s hands clawed at the Spaniard’s wrist and arm, his eyes blinking rapidly.

The Spaniard too was blinking hard, but his head swiveled just enough for him to look at them through narrowed lids. His gaze pinned her, and Dahlia sucked in a breath. His eyes were bright summer blue, almost startlingly vibrant. But the emotion there was rage. Pure rage.

Vadisk stood at the Spaniard’s back, arm outstretched, the gun pointed at the back of the man’s head. Montana was in position on the other side, his body angled, knees bent, gun held in both hands. His face was calm, his eyes locked on the Spaniard.

“Drop the knife,” Vadisk ordered.

It was only then that Dahlia saw the knife in the Spaniard’s other hand, the tip pressed to Sinaver’s gut, indenting the fabric of his shirt.

“Here to save him?” the Spaniard asked mildly. “Or…” He laughed. “Or do you need him to escape?” He squeezed, and Sinaver’s rasping breaths cut off with a gurgle.

“Let him go,” Vadisk ordered.

“No. I don’t think I will.” But the Spaniard loosened his hold, Sinaver now sucking in desperate lungfuls of air.

“We both know that when I shoot you in the knee, the pain will drop you before you can stab him.” Vadisk switched to English. “Be ready to shoot him in the knee.”

It was clear that he’d understood that. Add “understands English” to the short list of things they knew about the man.

Montana nodded, and the Spaniard’s gaze shifted between Montana and Dahlia.

“True,” the Spaniard said in Russian, answering Vadisk’s statement, “but if you do that, maybe I’ll be in too much pain to talk.” Slowly, the Spaniard turned to look back over his shoulder at Vadisk.

Vadisk was smiling slightly. “If we shoot your other knee too, maybe you’ll cycle past the point of being in too much pain to talk, to being in so much pain, you’ll say anything to stop me.”

The Spaniard laughed slightly. “I’ll put away the knife, how about that?”

“Drop it and kick it away,” Vadisk ordered.

But the Spaniard flicked open a thigh pocket on his pants and started to slide the knife inside. He must have had a sheath in there because?—

“Stop,” Vadisk ordered, and though Montana had no way of following the conversation, either Vadisk’s tone or what the Spaniard was doing made him take two quick steps forward.

The Spaniard’s hand disappeared into his pocket, and in the next second, the world went white.

Dahlia fell back, forearm over her eyes. There was no accompanying boom the way there had been when Vadisk threw the stun grenade, but the searing white light had rendered her blind.

For one horrifying moment, she wondered if the light could have damaged her already compromised eyes and now she was fully blind, decades ahead of when she’d anticipated. Terror shook her as she mourned the sudden loss of something she was already losing. She thought she had more time, more years.

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