Page 63 of Before Broken Vows
Nicolas remains silent.
I close the ledger and turn to face him. I reach behind my back and pull out my gun, aiming it directly at Nicolas's forehead.
"Enough games," I say, my voice dropping. "Tell me who killed my father!”
Nicolas looks up at the gun, then at me. There's no fear in his eyes.
"Even with that," he says, nodding at the ledger, "you still don't get it."
"Enlighten me," I press the barrel of the gun against his skin.
"You could kill me. Torture me. Cut me up into small pieces and throw me in the Aegean." The words come out firm. "It still wouldn't be as bad as what they'd do to me. My family. They'll erase my bloodline from this earth. Just as they plan on doing to?—"
The rest of his sentence is obliterated along with most of his left eye. One moment he's speaking; the next, there's a wet thud and a spray of red mist. I don't even register the sound of the shot before the windows explode inward.
Glass shards rain down. The room erupts with gunfire.
I drop to the floor, my body operating on pure instinct while my mind struggles to catch up. Bullets tear into the walls, the furniture, ripping chunks from the ceiling. The sudden flurry of bullets is deafening, disorienting.
"Dio!" I shout, looking at him.
He's sprawled on his back near the doorway, a dark stain spreading across his chest. His eyes are open, staring at nothing. Dead before he even knew what hit him.
Fuck.
"We need to move!" Dimitri yells from somewhere to my left. He's flattened himself against the wall next to the shattered window, his gun in his hand. "They've got us surrounded!"
I army-crawl toward him, keeping my head down as bullets continue to tear through the apartment. Nicolas's body is slumped in the chair, what's left of his face a red ruin. The ledger—fuck, I dropped it.
I pivot, reaching out to grab it.
"Let's go!" Dimitri shouts. "We need to get the fuck out of here!"
Bullets are still flying, coming in from multiple directions at once.
"There's a back door," I say to Dimitri. "Through the kitchen."
He nods, and we both prepare to make a run for it.
"On three," I say, taking a deep breath. "One. Two. Three!"
We lunge forward, staying low, racing toward the kitchen. More glass shatters behind us as bullets pierce through the remaining windows. Our remaining men follow close behind us.
We burst into the kitchen just as the front door explodes inward. I risk a glance back and catch a glimpse of black tactical gear, masked figures flooding into the apartment.
"Move!" I shove Dimitri toward the door at the back of the kitchen.
He yanks it open, and we tumble into a narrow stairwell. The door slams shut behind us, and I hear the distinct sound of bullets hitting the metal from the other side.
"Fuck the rest of our crew," Dimitri yells.
"Go, go," I order, though Dimitri is already moving.
We descend the stairs quickly. My heart pounds in my chest.
"They knew we had Nicolas," I say. "And they made sure he couldn't talk."
We reach the third-floor landing when we hear the service door above us crash open. More footsteps—heavier and more numerous than our own. They're coming.
