Page 72 of Puck'N Enemy
Suddenly, the car doors open. Someone, somewhere, must’ve given them a silent signal. The men slip out one by one, quiet as shadows.
Mitchikov glances at me. “Stay put,” he says in a commanding tone.
“Is Dylan going to be okay?” I ask in a low, worried tone. “If he’s with Pete, he could get killed too.”
Mitchikov remains calm. “They’re not going to kill Pete just yet. Right now, the priority is to flush out Pete’s men and then breach the building. If you rush in now, you’ll never make it past the front door. You’ll be dead before you reach him.”
I clench my jaw, torn between rage and helplessness.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire splits the air.
Chaos erupts instantly on the street. I flinch as the first scream pierces its way into my ear. More shots follow along with short bursts of automatic fire echoing off the concrete. Somewhere close by, glass shatters in a spray of shards.
And then, comes the deep boom of an explosion. A plume of black smoke surges from the far end of the block.
People on the street panic, scattering in every direction, shoving each other to get away. Cars swerve. Someone screams “Bomb!” and the crowd surges harder.
My heart races as I watch Mitchikov’s bratva friends fan out in formation, returning fire.
“It’s started,” Mitchikov says in an eerie calm tone as he scans the chaos on the street.
“What about Dylan?” I ask anxiously. “What if they mistake him for one of Pete’s men?”
“They won’t,” my friend says firmly. “They know Dylan belongs to us. Be patient for a little longer. The breach team will secure the lobby soon and then, we’ll make our move.”
I nod, struggling to stay calm even as screams and gunfire tear through the air outside. All I can do is continue to pray for Dylan and hope he’s still alive.
My pulse thuds in my ears. Every second I wait feels like an eternity.
And suddenly, everything around us becomes still.
The gunfire tapers off. The last screams fade into the distance. Only the faint sound of car alarms and the crackle of distant flames remain.
Mitchikov exhales slowly, checking his phone. A message buzzes through, alerting him. He nods once, his face set with grim determination.
“Lobby’s clear,” he says, looking up at me. “But we don’t have much time. Cops will be swarming this block in minutes. We go now or we’ll end up being arrested.”
I don’t even respond. Simply shoving the car door open, I run toward the building across the street.
The smell of blood and ashes suffuses the air outside. Bodies, mostly of men in dark suits, litter the street. They lie utterly still against the asphalt, clutching their guns in lifeless hands.
I have no idea which faction they belong to. A part of me doesn’t even care. All I want to do is get to Dylan and get him out of there.
The glass lobby doors are shattered and dangling from their hinges.
Stepping inside, I find the marble floors streaked with blood. More dead bodies lie crumpled at my feet. Bullet holes mark the polished walls. A massive chandelier lies shattered on the ground, its glass shards scattered like diamonds in a pool of red.
My stomach turns at the sight but I don’t stop to think.
Dylan, where are you?I think, desperately trying to navigate through the carnage.
“Over here!” Mitchikov calls, pointing toward an elevator.
I rush toward him in time as the shiny steel doors slide open with a soft ding.
Keeping his gun in his hand, Mitchikov steps in and hits the top-floor button without hesitation.
My heart hammers in my chest as the elevator starts its ascent. When the elevator doors finally open, it feels like stepping into another world.
