Page 76 of Stricken

This stupid little voice in the back of my head that sounds like Yuri again. I hate it. What I hate more is not being able to prove him wrong. To prove that I can run his empire on my own terms with no bloodshed. But to do this I need to move. Need to get out of here.

Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes as I rush down to my end of the warehouse, frantically searching for any escape route.

Nico's footsteps echo sharply on the stone floors, each stride fading until completely gone.

I'm scared, I realize. Scared for him.

Suddenly, Nico's voice—urgent and clear—cuts through the chaos from a distance. Relief almost knocks me off-balance. "Here!"

Without hesitation, I whip around and sprint to him, weaving through blazing wings of fire and menacing heat.

I see Nico, standing in the corner and pointing upward.

A small window, high on the wall, winks at us. Hope flares, but it's quickly tempered by reality. It's at least fifteen feet up, behind a huge rack filled with various containers.

"We'll have to climb," I growl, eyeing the metal shelving units lining the walls.

Nico nods grimly, his expression all shadows and tension. At least the part of his face not hidden behind the fabric.

I grab the nearest container from the next shelf over, testing its stability. It protests with a metallic groan but doesn't give way. Nico flicks my jacket aside to use both hands to bring another one over. I try lifting it, but it's stubbornly heavy. He grips the container's edges. Together we heft it up, muscles straining until it perches awkwardly atop the first.

Now, we need to be able to get on this tower. But before I figure out how, Nico's already identified the next step.

"Wait—I think I saw a step stool," he blurts out, vanishing into the maze of racks.

True to his word, he reemerges with the step stool clutched in his hand, setting it down with a dull thud. A raw cough wracks his chest, bending him at the waist again.

"Damn it, Nico!" I hiss out, snatching my jacket from the floor. "Take it. Cover your mouth and nose," I tell him. I don't like the way he looks—weak despite all the bravado.

Nico does as instructed, placing my jacket over the lower portion of his face. I reach out and try to tie it at the back of his head. Not ideal but at least he'll have use of both hands to get out.

The smoke is so thick now I can barely see anything. "You go first," I say.

"No, you go!"

"Come on."

"I said you go, then you go,caro." He nudges me toward the step stool.

"Fuck." That's all I say and start climbing. If we keep on arguing, we'll both burn and suffocate.

"Stay close," I order as I continue to the window.

The metal, hot now in places, sears my palms, but I grit my teeth and push on. We don't have time for caution. Behind us, I hear a rumbling crash as part of the office wall caves in.

Don't look.

Just keep going.

Don't worry about minor cuts and burns.

Worry about your empire waiting for you.

When I'm finally at the window I allow myself to glance down. Nico's halfway there but my heart clenches at the sight of him struggling. His movements are sluggish, his breathing labored. The smoke is choking us both now. I can feel it. The piece of fabric tied around my face isn't helping anymore.

"Almost there," I rasp, reaching the window. Without hesitation, I smash my elbow through the glass. Shards slice into my skin, but I barely notice the pain. "Hurry!"

He's only a few feet below me now, but his strength is failing. His fingers slip on the metal, and for a horrifying moment, I think he's going to fall.

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