Page 20 of Dark Promise

“We need to get out of here,” I say, hauling her toward the opening. “The limo’s about to light up like a torch.”

The words jolt her, and she scrambles to follow me, her movements clumsy as I help her through the gap. Snow whips us like shards of glass, the bitter cold slicing through our clothing as I pull her clear of the wreckage.

The storm is relentless, the snow falling thick and heavy, swallowing the world in silence. I steady Sabina as her legs wobble, her weight sagging against me. Ridiculously, she’s still clutching her purse as if it can ward off all the evils of the world.

I shoot a glance at the limo. It’s a mess of twisted metal and shattered glass, flames licking at the edges of the hood. We don’t have long.

I grip Sabina’s shoulders and hold her gaze. Her eyes, still defiant despite everything, narrow at me as if I’m the one responsible for this mess. I guess in a way, I am.

“Listen to me,” I say, keeping my voice calm and low. “The car that was tailing us spun out, but I doubt they took the same hit we have. It’s only a matter of time before they’re here to finish the job. I need you to stay put while I get Piotr. Can you do that?”

Her brow knits, then she nods.

I let go, hating the fear in her eyes and the way she sways on her feet.

“Piotr!” I shout as I turn back to the wreck, the wind stealing my voice. He isn’t just an employee. He’s a friend, a man I trust, a man I care about. He’s been with me for over ten years. We’ve been to hell and back together hundreds of times over. I shout his name again but there’s no reply.

I grab the jagged edges of the twisted frame and drag myself up onto the limo, the metal groaning under my weight. When I reach the driver’s door, I wedge my fingers into the gap and pull, every muscle straining. The door doesn’t move.

I jam my fingers deeper. Pull harder. It doesn’t budge.

“Fuck,” I roar.

Then I squat lower, using my whole body as I strain to get the door open. Finally, with a screech of protest, it gives a little, and then a little more, until I have an opening big enough that I can see Piotr slumped against the steering wheel, his body suspended by his seatbelt, blood dripping from a nasty gash in his forehead.

He groans and opens his eyes.

Relief and dread twist through me.

“Piotr,” I say.

“Boss.” He offers a lopsided smile. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.”

I assess the situation. I can’t reach around to unhook his seatbelt. The angle is all wrong with the limo tilted on its side and the interior a nightmare of torn leather, jagged metal, and shattered glass.

I glance back at Sabina. She’s still on her feet, no longer swaying, her arms crossed over her chest as she glares daggers at me through the swirling snow. That fire in her, the one that makes her a Russo, burns hot as ever. It’s infuriating. It’s impressive.

“Hold on,” I say to Piotr as I clamber inside, my boots crunching on debris. I wedge myself into the small space.

The seatbelt is twisted and taut, biting into his shoulder. I brace myself, gripping the belt to relieve the tension as I fumble for the release. The buckle is slick with blood, the mechanism sticking.

“Stay with me,” I mutter, my focus narrowing to the task at hand. Every second stretches painfully long as the heat from the hood grows stronger, the flames hissing closer.

Finally, the buckle clicks free. Piotr slumps forward, and I hook my arm under his to keep him from falling. He’s heavierthan he looks, and the cramped space makes it harder to maneuver.

“Come on,” I grit out, pulling him toward the open door.

“Let me help.” Sabina’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and unwavering. I whip my head around, ready to bark at her to stay back, stay safe, but the look in her eyes stops me cold. She is fierce. She is unrelenting. She is not asking permission; she’s telling me she’s helping whether I like it or not.

I watch as she climbs up in those crazy heels, her breath fogging in the freezing air.

“Stay back,” I snap, even as a surge or something foreign—respect, maybe—flares in my chest.

“Shut up,” she fires back, her eyes blazing. She reaches in and between the two of us, we manage to begin to drag him from the wreckage, inch by inch. Sabina braces herself against the side of the limo, her heels scraping against the metal, but she doesn’t falter.

Together, we haul Piotr free. He slumps heavily against me as I lower him to the snow.

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