Page 24 of Hostage of the Russian
Her heart hammered during the entire journey, adrenaline and terror mixing into a cocktail that made her hands shake. Any moment, she expected to see Kostya’s black SUV pulling up beside the cab.
But the cab reached the university without incident, and Azriel paid the driver with emergency cash she’d been hoarding. The familiar Gothic Revival buildings should have calmed her, but instead they only intensified her anxiety. This felt too much like borrowed time.
The examination room was sterile, filled with long tables and uncomfortable plastic chairs. Azriel took her assigned seat and stared down at the blue book and pencils. Around her, other students fidgeted and whispered last-minute review points.
She’d studied for this exam for weeks, but now her mind felt blank. Every few seconds, her gaze darted to the door, expecting to see Kostya’s imposing figure.
“You may begin,” the proctor announced.
Azriel’s pen hovered over the first question, palms slick with sweat.Analyze the economic factors that contributed to the collapse of the Soviet Union.She knew this topic inside and out, but the words seemed to swim on the page.
Focus,she commanded herself.This is what you came here for.
Slowly, painfully, she began to write. Each word felt like a small victory, each completed sentence a rebellion against the forces that wanted to keep her trapped. The familiar rhythm of analysis and argument began to take hold.
She was halfway through the second essay when the door opened. Azriel’s pen froze, heart stopping completely as she waited for the inevitable. But it was only another student arriving late, looking harried and apologetic.
Not Kostya. Not yet.
She returned to her exam with renewed determination, pouring her heart and soul into each answer. This might be her last chance to prove she was more than just a pawn in someone else’s game.
The proctor called time just as she finished the final question, her hand cramping from three hours of intensive writing. Around her, students were stretching and gathering their belongings, engaging in casual chatter about answers and celebration plans.
Azriel gathered her things slowly, trying to blend in as they filed out. Her legs felt unsteady as she climbed the stairs, each step taking her closer to whatever consequences awaited.
The late afternoon sun was blinding after three hours in the windowless room. Azriel blinked, raising a hand to shield her eyes as she descended the library steps.
She was halfway across the quad when she saw him.
Kostya stood beside the fountain, his dark suit making him look like a predator among the casually dressed students. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture deceptively relaxed, but even from fifty feet away, Azriel could see the dangerous tension coiled in his shoulders.
Their eyes met across the distance, and the fury in his gaze hit her like a physical blow.
For a moment, she considered running. The campus was large, filled with hiding places and multiple exits. But where would she go? She had no money, no resources, and now he knew exactly how far she was willing to go to defy him.
Squaring her shoulders, Azriel walked toward him. If she were going down, she’d do it with her head held high.
“Before you say anything,” she began when she was close enough to speak, “I want you to know that I—”
“Shut up.” The words were barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of a death sentence. “Not another fucking word.”
His hand closed around her upper arm with bruising force, and he began walking toward the edge of campus, dragging her alongside him. Students gave them a wide berth, whether from his intimidating presence or the violence rolling off him in waves.
“You think this is a game?” His voice was low enough that only she could hear, but each word felt like a blade. “You think I make threats just to hear myself talk?”
“I think you’re an asshole who doesn’t understand what it means to have goals beyond intimidating people,” she shot back, her own anger flaring despite the danger. “I worked my entire life for this degree. I wasn’t going to let you—”
“Let me?” He stopped walking so abruptly that she stumbled. “Princess, you seem to be under the impression that you have choices here. Let me clarify something for you—”
The first gunshot cut through his words like thunder.
For a split second, neither of them moved, both frozen by the sharp crack that seemed impossibly loud in the peaceful campus setting. Then chaos erupted around them.
Students screamed, some dropping to the ground, others running in every direction at once. A second shot rang out, then a third, and suddenly Kostya’s arm was around Azriel’s waist, pulling her against his body as he scanned their surroundings with predatory intensity.
“Stay low,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the panic with military precision. “Do exactly what I tell you.”
More gunshots echoed across the quad, and Azriel could see people streaming out of buildings in every direction. A girl near them was sobbing hysterically while her boyfriend tried to pull her toward the parking lot.
