Page 26 of His Order

Chapter 14

Pavel

The gunshot explodes through the hallway with a shattering roar, like the crack of a thunderous whip tearing through the air, leaving an echo of fear in its wake. Then—chaos.

Glass shatters. Bullets tear through the air. The walls scream with gunfire.

I throw myself to the side, shoulder slamming into the wall just as another round whizzes past my face and embeds itself in the plaster, inches from my skull.

“Move!” I shout, signaling to Roman. “Get under cover.”

We sprint through the relentless gunfire, dodging and diving into the penthouse with our hearts pounding in our chests. Marble chips erupt like shrapnel around us, dust and blood mingling in a suffocating haze. I slam into the wall just inside the living room, adrenaline surging through my veins.

I don’t see Mikhail and Anya, and the only thought in my mind is that she is in one of the rooms. All I need is for her to be safe, and I will handle the rest later.

I dive behind the couch, gripping my gun with white-knuckled intensity. Roman takes cover behind an overturned table nearby, the tension between us almost palpable. I squeeze my eyes shut, conjuring the vivid memory of Lilian, her warmth, and the brilliance she brought into our daughter's life, searing into my mind.

This is for her—for Lilian. She was more than collateral damage, and I swear on everything I hold sacred that this man will pay dearly for what he's done.

My Glock roars with a thunderous fury, unleashing three sharp rounds that ricochet through the hallway. One bullet slams into the doorframe, splintering wood with a violent crack. Another one grazes a darting shadow, slicing me right through with lethal precision.

Tonight, I will seize vengeance with an unyielding grip, tearing it from the shadows with a ferocity that cannot be contained.

I lift my gaze and look at the two men. They hide behind the pillars, waiting for me to return my fire.

"Come out to play, Pav! The game is just heating up, and it's about to get wild!" Dmitri’s voice bellows out loudly.

That arrogant bastard. He's provoking me, daring me to make a mistake. I must stay focused if I'm going to win this deadly game.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he slams his back against the cold, unforgiving concrete pillar, gun poised, eyes fixed on Roman with unwavering intensity. There's not a hint of doubt—he takes aim, and with lethal precision, he fires.

I watch with a gripping fear that holds me, hostage, as Victor comes from behind his pillar and aims his gin.

“Roman—!”

Roman dives to the right, rolling behind a marble column as Victor's bullet grazes his side. Blood smears across his shirt, but he doesn’t stop.

He fires back.

Two shots. Clean. Precise.

Victor convulses violently. His body contorts as the first bullet tears into his shoulder, followed by a second that viciously punches into his thigh. He plummets to the ground like a dead weight, his weapon clattering helplessly across the gleaming floor. His scream pierces the air—not with the anguish of agony, but with the raw fury of betrayal. It's the guttural cry of a traitorwho knows, with searing clarity, that the bullet in his leg is merely the harbinger of his impending doom.

Roman doesn’t wait. He charges toward him, covering the distance fast.

“Roman!” I bark. “Cover!”

He hesitates—but only for a second. Then he drags Victor’s body toward the overturned coffee table, cursing under his breath the entire way.

“I’m going to make you bleed slowly, you piece of shit,” Roman snarls, slamming Victor against the wall. “Don’t you fucking move.”

Gunfire erupts again from the other end of the penthouse. Dmitri.

He’s used our momentary distraction to find his way behind the bar now. He’s crouched low, gun in hand, firing off calculated bursts in our direction. His face is calm—too calm. The asshole looks like he’s playing chess, not a shootout.

I take cover behind the arm of the couch, bullets thudding against the heavy wood and leather.

Every second feels like an hour. Every sound is a live wire.

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