Page 10 of Beautiful Agony

"Take the shots if you have them!" I command my men in Russian. "Don't let them murder any more!"

I move from cover to cover, looking for angles. Another scream cuts off with a gunshot. These animals are systematically executing everyone who could testify against them.

I spot movement to my left—one of Kirsan's men raising his gun to another victim's head. My bullet takes him through the temple before he can pull the trigger. His victim collapses, in shock but still alive.

But for every one we save, I hear another execution. The sound of each gunshot feels like a personal failure. These women were supposed to be rescued, not slaughtered!

I press forward, staying low, searching for any sign of Lacey or Serena among the chaos. The concrete walls amplify every shot and scream into a hellish cacophony.

A flash of movement catches my eye. One of Kirsan's men grabs a young woman, using her as a human shield.

His eyes are wild, desperate. He knows he's cornered.

"Stay back!" he shouts, pressing his gun to the girl's temple. She whimpers, tears streaming down her face.

I keep my weapon trained on him, looking for an opening. His shoulder is exposed—just barely—as he shifts his grip on the terrified woman.

I take the shot.

The bullet tears through his shoulder. He screams, releasing his hostage as he crumples to the ground. His gun clatters across the concrete floor.

I kick the weapon away and press my boot into his wounded shoulder. "Where are they?" I demand in Russian. "Where's my wife? Where's my sister?"

He spits blood at my feet. "Fuck you!"

My finger tightens on the trigger, rage burning through me. But movement catches my eye—the women huddled against the walls, watching with terrified expressions.

I can't execute someone in front of them. They've seen enough violence tonight.

"Get them out of here," I order one of myboevikiin Russian. "Call ambulances. Make sure they're taken care of."

I grab the wounded man by his collar and drag him toward the exit.

"Take thismudakoutside," I tell another of my men. "Make it quick."

I search through the building, my heart pounding harder with each woman I pass who isn't Lacey. Some huddle against walls, trembling. Others lie motionless on the ground. My men escort the survivors out while I move deeper into the building.

"Lacey!" My voice echoes off concrete walls. No answer.

No… No! No! No!

I start checking the corpses, rolling each one over with shaking hands. Dark hair, not blonde. Wrong build. Too tall. Each corpse that isn't her brings both relief and escalating panic.

Where the hell can they be?

"Vadim Petrovich," one of my men calls. "We've cleared the building. No sign of her."

I slam my fist against the wall as I storm back outside in the rain, the pain barely registering through my fury. That's when I spot it—a heavy metal door set near the back wall.

A cellar entrance.

The man I ordered executed lies crumpled nearby, blood pooling beneath him. I step over his body.

"Open it," I command my men, gesturing to the cellar door.

Twoboevikigrab the handles and heave it open. I draw my gun and start down the concrete steps, my footsteps echoing in the enclosed space. Stale air wafts up from the darkness below.

At the bottom, fluorescent lights flicker to life, illuminating what looks like an office. And there, tied to a chair, is Lacey. Beside her is a girl who looks almost like a mirror image of my Mom.

---