Page 134 of Fallen Empire
A way out.
I hadn’t thought about the stairs. About how my body would handle them. But I didn’t have the luxury of hesitation.
I punched the code in again on the pad beside the exit and slipped through the steel door, closing it behind me. The stairwell was dim and cold, the only sound my bare feet hitting each concrete step.
I didn’t feel the pain anymore. Not in my ribs. Not in my leg.
Only one thing pulsed through me now.
Resolve.
Unshakable. Vicious.
I was going to find her.
Even if it killed me.
Chapter 27
Millie
I’d played out every possible scenario in my mind, trying to stay one step ahead. Deep down, I knew they’d find me. I knew Ben would tear this city apart if he had to. Even if it meant learning a truth I wasn’t ready to admit.
That after everything that has happened… I could never be with him. Not after he’d kept me in the dark again.
Still, I’d held onto the only advantage I had. The fact that Aleksei didn’t know we were on to him. I’d played my part well, kept the mask in place, and let him think I was just a pawn in his game.
But when the door creaked open and the body of a woman collapsed onto the floor, I realized just how wrong I’d been.
I had underestimated him.
Because Aleksei Koslov wasn’t just capable of violence. He knew how to send a message.
And now the message had a pulse.
The door shut behind her, and my body responded instantly.
Don’t let it be Vannah. Please, God—don’t let it be her.
There was already blood pooling on the floor where she lay, limp and lifeless.
I rushed to her side, heart pounding, and rolled her over. My breath caught.
The bile clawing up my throat couldn’t be stopped. I turned my head and vomited onto the floor beside me. And the acrid stench in the room almost triggered it all over again, but I shoved my sleeve over my nose, forcing myself to breathe through the cotton.
I stayed there, crouched and shaking, my knees slick from the floor and my hands too numb to feel the cement. Mybrain tried to shut down, like if I didn’t look at her again, I could pretend this wasn’t real. Pretend I wasn’t in a room with someone who’d just died in front of me.
But I knew I wouldn’t pretend she didn’t exist.
Then I looked at her.
Reallylooked at her.
Her hair was matted to her scalp, dark with blood and sweat, the strands tangled like they’d been yanked and twisted by violent hands. Her clothes—what was left of them—hung in shreds. A tank top that used to be white, now soaked through with crimson. One shoe missing. One ankle twisted wrong. Her skin was pale beneath the filth.
There was a delicate chain around her neck, barely visible through the blood. A tiny pendant still clung to it, cracked down the middle like someone had stepped on it.
Her face—God, her face—looked like it had been pressed through a cheese cutter. Perfect lines, carved straight up and down. Her flesh peeled open so far I could see her teeth.
