Page 60 of Twisted Obsession
Andrei was right. The only barrier between us and Lara seemed insurmountable. We needed Gisela’s expertise, but the clock was ticking, and she was too far away to help us in time.
Time slipped through our fingers as we stood helplessly before the keypad. I never imagined I’d be forced to make such a request of my friends—the men who had always placed their trust in me. But desperation left me with no alternatives.
ME: It’s time. The only one I need is Nazar. I understand if you don’t want to help.
NAZAR: We are brothers. You would do the same for me.
ISAAK: We will all be there.
ME: Use my cell GPS to locate me.
Receiving their affirmative responses, I anxiously awaited the arrival of the four of them. I was confident they’d have a clear route since we had already subdued all the guards.
Minutes dragged on, each second a relentless reminder of the urgency—tick, tick, tick.
Finally, four men emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by ominous red masks. Angelo and Stepan instinctively raised their weapons, poised to fire.
“Lower your weapons,” I commanded, extending my hand to prevent them from taking aim at the four masked figures.
“Red Knights, meet the guys. Guys, meet the Red Knights.” That was all the introduction I could afford at the moment.
“Nazar, we need to get past this door.” I gestured toward the pad, locking eyes with him.
We all took a step back, allowing Nazar the space to work his magic. He shrugged off his backpack and deftly retrieved a compact device, connecting it to the panel where the elusive code was required.
“We should have access in a few minutes,” Nazar murmured, his eyes focused intently on the device. He entered a sequence of numbers, then held it close to the code panel beside the imposing metal door.
One by one, the numbers materialized on his device—nine, six, three, one, seven, two. As soon as they were inputted, the door emitted a satisfying click, swinging open to grant us entry. We all filed through, ready to face whatever lay beyond.
The corridor we entered bore a striking resemblance to an underground military compound or missile silo, with its cold, utilitarian design and oppressive atmosphere. The walls were made of reinforced concrete, their surfaces dotted with the occasional rusted pipe or flickering fluorescent light. I knew there were still some abandoned missile sites scattered around this area, remnants of a bygone era of tension and secrecy, but I never imagined I’d find myself inside one. Ivan, with his enigmatic mind, had clearly known what he was doing when he constructed his mansion atop this hidden fortress. It always baffled me why he chose to dwell in such an isolated expanse of wilderness.
As we pressed further down the seemingly endless hallway, the sound of voices and the rhythmic thud of footsteps echoed ominously around the corner. More guards. Their presence was an insurmountable obstacle, a wall of danger we couldn’t breach without risking lives. The hallway offered no refuge, no alcoves or shadows to conceal us.
We stopped our advance at the end of the hallway, pausing to evaluate our dire situation. I cautiously peeked around the corner, my heart pounding in my chest, to gauge the threat before us. Six guards were strategically positioned along the length of the hallway, each gripping their weapons with a readiness to unleash lethal force. Shit. This was far from ideal.
I pressed my back against the cold, unyielding wall, my mind racing through possible strategies. “There are six guards, all armed and ready to kill. Any suggestions?” I asked, my voice a tense whisper.
“One,” Isaak responded with a calm confidence that belied the perilous situation. With swift, practiced movements, he swung his bag from his shoulder, crouched down, and extracted a couple of canisters. He handed each of us a small, compact version of what appeared to be a gas mask. “Put these on. You’re going to need them,” he instructed.
I couldn’t fathom how Isaak had acquired incapacitating gas, especially given its highly illegal status. But if it meant rescuing Lara, I wasn’t about to question our lifeline.
Isaak deftly dislodged the canisters’ protective clips and hurled them toward the guards with practiced precision. The gas spread quickly, a silent predator, and though it wouldn’t keep them unconscious for long, it provided us a crucial window of opportunity. We swiftly secured their hands and legs with zip ties, confiscating their weapons. The decision to spare their lives lingered heavily; hopefully, it wasn’t a mistake.
The hallway was lined with eight imposing metal doors, each equipped with a coded keypad. Yet, as we frantically searched, it became painfully clear that not one of them concealed Lara. Where the hell was she?
Frustration and fear coiled within me as I turned to Andrei, grabbing him by the neck in a grip of desperation.
“You set us up,” I accused, my voice a low, dangerous growl. The cold metal of a gun pressed against his temple, my finger hovering over the trigger, ready to demand answers.
“I swear I didn’t,” he winced, his face twisted with a mix of pain and frustration. “I was certain he’d bring her here. This is where he brought all the girls.”
The urge to kill Andrei surged within me, a violent storm of anger and frustration, but I held back, knowing that if I acted on it, Lara would never forgive me. I paced back and forth, feeling more helpless than I ever had. A caged beast with no escape. I turned abruptly toward Andrei, my voice low and dangerous. “Call him. You better hope he answers.”
With shaky hands, Andrei fumbled to pull his phone from the depths of his pocket, his fingers trembling as he found Ivan’s number. He pressed the device to his ear, and my eyes bored into him, unblinking and relentless.
“Ivan, I assume you have Lara,” Andrei said, his tone deceptively casual, as if playing along with the plan he and Ivan had concocted.
“Yes. My beautiful wife is finally safe with me,” Ivan’s voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with smug satisfaction.
