Page 180 of Blood & Snow
"Third floor entrance blocked," Ivan says.
"Heavy barricade."
My focus is on the storage rooms near the back that have remained oddly quiet.
I know Sokolov is in there hiding from me, waiting for me to come find him so he can jump out and shoot me down.
A Sokolov soldier stumbles from a doorway to my left, face contorted in rage.
Igor puts him down before he can raise his weapon.
Another tries to flee toward the staircase, but my shots catch him in the back.
"Clear left," Igor calls.
That leaves the main room on my right, near the back.
I approach with my rifle raised and my heart pounding so hard against my ribs it feels like it might burst through atany second.
Never in my life have I felt adrenaline like this.
Of course situations call for my body to be prepared, but knowing Nadya is there, waiting for me and probably terrified, maybe already dead, has heightened things beyond my ability to cope.
Igor places shaped charges at the hinges and shouts, "Fire in the hole!"
The blast breaks the door from its hinges and I stand with my gun up and ready as Igor tugs it loose.
It falls into the hallway and men behind him lift it out of the way, and when we enter the small room, Arkady stands beside a metal chair where Nadya sits bound and gagged, her face pale beneath bruises.
The old man holds a pistol to her head, and he's not fucking around.
"One step closer and she dies," he says calmly.
I keep my rifle trained on his chest as we file into the room.
Igor steps in behind me, then another of my men behind him.
He's outnumbered, but that doesn't mean he won't take Nadya out with him.
That's his only play now and he knows it, one last cloying reach to hurt me as he goes to his grave.
"The great Xander Morin," Arkady sneers.
"Brought to his knees by a woman who cleans floors."
Nadya's eyes meet mine and I see terror in them.
My heart squeezes in my chest at the site of the bruises on her face.
They've kept her alive but treated her with cruelty.
Dried blood crusts her temple.
Her wrists are raw from restraints.
"Let her go and I'll make it quick," I offer.
"I'm not negotiating with you, " he says, and his finger tightens on the trigger.
