29 | A Prayer for Grace

"YOU TOO," GRACE MUTTERED, HER cheeks still flushed with the memory of our kiss. "Promise me?"

I'd never make her any promises I couldn't keep. It was the one vow I'd made to myself the second I started getting closer to her. I wouldn't let her live under any illusions about the life I could offer her. Even if it meant in the end she chose to leave.

Instead, I revved the engine and sped off down the street. This was exactly the sort of situation I'd always wanted to keep her away from. I wanted to be angry at Viktor for inviting her to my family's house, but if she hadn't been there, she might have been at The Docks when the attack happened...

My foot slammed into the accelerator at the thought, causing the car to jerk forward abruptly. I needed to push Grace out of my mind. I'd done everything I could to keep her out of harm's way - she'd be safe where I'd left her. Now my men needed me.

It took a good five minutes of flat out driving until the familiar structure of The Docks came into sight, with its imposing perimeter of twenty foot high fencing. I was surprised to find the front gates still closed when I arrived, with the usual guards waving me past. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach as I eased the Jeep through the gates and immediately began scanning the ship yard.

Misha and Fedor bounded out of their home under the capsized boat at the sound of my car's engine, tails low and hackles high as they growled and snarled at the unfamiliar vehicle. That was another thing that seemed off: if anyone unfamiliar had managed to get into the compound, they'd have struggled to get past the dogs. Or the dogs would have bullets in their brains.

I shut off the engine and leapt out of the car, immediately setting Misha and Fedor at ease. They trotted up to me with wagging tails and excited yelps.

"Ryadom," I commanded, striding across the yard with them by my side. I flicked the safety off my gun as I walked.

(Heel)

The whole yard was quiet and empty. There was no sign that the control room had been broken into, there were no dead bodies lying around or used ammunition. I frowned, walking around the back of the operations building where our shipments arrived and were processed. The quiet padding of Misha and Fedor's paws was the only sound aside from the gentle lapping of the river against the docks.

And there it was. A whole fucking Maersk container sat in the middle of the yard where it should have been. 500kg of cocaine on board, stashed in the packaging of several hundred household appliances, from washing machines to ovens. This was the shipment Dmitry had been in charge of. So why had it been delivered safely?

"Boss," a familiar voice greeted from behind me.

I turned to find Yury ambling over to me from the back entrance of the operations building. I frowned. "What's going on?" I asked, pointing to the perfectly impossible container. "Where's Dmitry?"

Yury shrugged. "Haven't seen him since yesterday. Presumed he had a heavy night with booze and hookers so I sorted the delivery for him."

"Is your phone on you?"

He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to me. I checked the screen despite already having a feeling I knew what I'd see: unlike Sergei and I, Yury hadn't received an S.O.S. call from Dmitry. I frowned. "Nobody's been in this yard?" I interrogated. "Nobody unusual?"

"Just the delivery driver," he shrugged. "But the guy didn't even get out of the cab."

"B'lyad!"

(fuck)

"Everything okay, boss?"

Just then thudding footsteps came within reach of my ears. I turned to find Sergei sprinting over to us, gun in hand. When he saw Yury and I stood calmly by the container a frown cast a shadow over his face. "What's going on?" he demanded, skin red with exertion. "What was the S.O.S. about?"

"Dmitry sent an S.O.S.?!" Surprise dawned on Yury's face, followed by confusion as he tried to piece together the same puzzle I couldn't solve. "Why wasn't I alerted?"

"Damnit," I growled, firing off a round of shots at the nearest wall, causing some of the brickwork to crumble.

"I don't understand," Sergei said frustratedly, putting the safety back on his gun and slipping it into his belt. "The location on the map pointed to The Docks. Unless..."

His eyes looked up to meet mine and in that moment I knew we were sharing the same thought. My mouth pulled down in to a grim line. "Grace," I muttered, that sinking feeling returning to my chest that I only ever experienced in relation to her. Then, the truth finally fully dawned on me, "Grace!"

Sergei and Yury were both running after me in a heartbeat as my feet pounded over the concrete. I had to get back to her.

"Where is she?" Sergei questioned.

"I left her at the safe house. The newest one."

I knew his silence in response only mimicked my own sense of hopelessness.

"We'll get to her," Yury encouraged as we reached the Jeep. "She'll be fine." He'd always been the most optimistic of us.

I yanked the car door open and paused as Sergei jumped into the passenger seat. "Yury, I need you to stay here," I commanded. "Someone needs to stay at The Docks."

Yury seemed disappointed for a second before he nodded obediently. He knew better than to argue with me, especially during a time like this. "Stay in contact," I warned, climbing into the Jeep and starting the engine.

I threw the car into reverse, and for the first time since I was twelve years old, I prayed.

I prayed for Grace.

Alexei | Grace

Inside the safe house, a cold draft of musty air circulated like a trapped spirit. The windows were cracked and the flaking frames were covered by a thick coating of mildew. A layer of dust covered what little furniture there was, though most of it seemed ancient and decrepit. I didn't glance into the living room for too long - the scene was far too mournful for me to bare.

Instead, I began climbing the rickety staircase. Each step I took made the warped floorboards creak and moan beneath the threadbare carpet, causing the hairs at the back of my neck to stand on end. I could feel my heart pounding in my temples with every movement I made.

A door stood ajar at the top of the stairwell; I could peak through the crack a shower and a sink, though there was little light in the room to see by. God knows what made Alex pick this place as a safe house - I'd never felt less safe.

As I took another step, a sharp stab in my left foot almost made me call out in pain, but I managed to hold myself back by biting my tongue. I could taste coppery blood flooding my mouth, but that was nothing compared to my foot. I'd stood on an old nail that had somehow penetrated the sole of my converse.

"Fuck," I whisper-shouted, gritting my teeth as I pulled my foot up to free it. Pain shot all the way up my leg and tears swelled in my eyes.

I hopped up the final two steps carefully until I could collapse onto the cool floor of the bathroom. I reached up to tug on the string hanging from the ceiling, and amazingly the room became bathed in a dim yellow light.

I pulled off my trainer, throwing it to the side and removing my sock. The wound wasn't too deep - my converse had suffered the worst blow - but blood swelled from it like a monsoon, dripping onto the cracked tiles in a puddle. I balled up my sock and pressed it against the nail's site of entry, mopping up as much of the blood as I could manage. Trust me to injure myself the one time I needed to stay safe and out of harm's way. If he ever finished being angry with me, Alex might actually find this amusing.

Well, maybe one day...

As I mused at my own misfortune, a noise snapped my attention downstairs. It sounded like someone at the front door. Maybe a postman? A curious neighbour? Even as I tried to be rational, my heart pounded painfully, giving me away. I listened closely. Another click. Then the unmistakeable creak of the door opening.

My first thoughts focused on Alex. What if he'd come back for me? I quickly realised the improbability of that theory; he'd only just left, and if it were him, why would he not call out to me? Whoever it was had a key to the house.

I listened closer, eyeing the large mirror on the wall. The person left the door open, and I could hear their quiet, measured footsteps. They were trying to be silent.

They knew I was here.

They didn't want me to know they were here.

It suddenly became almost impossible to stay silent. I tried to regulate my breathing, but every inhale and exhale seemed loud as a scream. My pulse itself should have been a dead giveaway as I slowly got up into a kneeling position, careful to keep my gun quietly by my side.

The person was coming up the stairs.

If I moved to go to the mirror, they would see me through the gap in the door. I had to be quick; once I started there would be no going back, there would only be success or failure. I didn't want to acknowledge it as life or death.

Crouching by the edge of the doorframe, I took one final breath before moving. Pain seared up my leg with each step but I didn't stop - I crossed to the mirror, almost slipping on the blood from my wound. My heart lurched when I almost lost my balance, but I managed to grab the gold gilt frame to steady myself.

The steps were closer now.

The cracked mirror was heavy, and I had to use all my strength to get it to move. If the intruder hadn't been aware of my presence before, they certainly would be now as the colossal sound of a heavy object sliding along the floor rang out through the house.

The steps got quicker.

I located the keypad almost instantly with relief, shifting the gun into my left hand in order to type. My fingers were shaking, but I was so close...

"Hello there, Grace."

My heart froze in my chest. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I couldn't move, could hardly breathe, as the entire back of my body prickled with the knowledge of an unwanted presence.

"Why don't you turn around," the voice suggested calmly.

Ignoring the pain in my foot, I turned. Dmitry stared back at me from half a meter away. My first instinct was to be relieved - he was one of Alex's men. But then the confusion hit.

"What are you doing here?" I asked shakily, glancing up and down at him. He wasn't holding a weapon so far as I could see. "You sent an S.O.S."

"I did?" he frowned. "Must have been an accident. I'm always sitting on my phone, accidentally pressing buttons, you know?" For some reason the smile he gave me made me feel sick.

"Did Alex send you?"

"Yes." I knew it was a lie instantly. Alex had told me - he'd demanded of me - not to open the panic room for anyone but him.

Dmitry's eyes flickered to the panic room door behind me. "Why don't you come down stairs with me, Grace?" His voice was oddly light and empty.

He was trying to lure me away from the room. I could tell from his anxious glances to the keypad every other second.

I swapped the gun from my left hand to my right and suddenly his stance shifted. He jolted as though shocked by a current, and his hands reached behind him at lightening speed. Dmitry was harbouring a weapon, he was just waiting for an opportune moment to use it.

Something wasn't right.

"You can put the gun down, now," he said flatly, gesturing to the floor. "You've no need for it any more. You're safe."

Right. Instead, I raised the gun so that it was pointed at his chest, but Dmitry drew his own weapon just as quickly. My hands were visibly shaking.

"Alex didn't send you," I hissed, trying to hold back the tears that were pressing behind my eyes. I wasn't built for situations like this. I wasn't meant to have guns pointed at me. I could never pull the trigger. I couldn't kill. "Why are you here?"

Suddenly the oddly sweet act that Dmitry had been affecting fell away. His face drew into an angry scowl as he took a step closer to me.

"Stay away from me," I warned shakily, waving the gun at him. My back was pressed flat to the mirror.

Dmitry smirked. "The safety is on, Grace," he pointed out. "When you move your finger to turn it off, I'll already have shot you."

"You wouldn't do that," I denied unconfidently. I bit my lip until I tasted blood to keep myself from crying.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're loyal to Alexei," I stammered, "and he'd kill you."

"Would he now?"

"Well he'd probably torture you first. He'd make you wish you were dead. In fact he's on his way now," I lied. Even I sounded less than convinced.

Dmitry's smirk grew. He took a step closer until I was backed right up against the wall, my injured foot struggling to find purchase on the tiles from all the blood. "Do you know what I'm here to do, Grace?"

"N-no."

"I'm here to kill you."

A ferocious bang from downstairs erupted into my eardrums like a roll of thunder. Dmitry's head immediately turned as he sought to identify the source of the noise, and it was then that I saw the only opportunity I'd get. I flicked the safety off and blindly fired my gun at Dmitry's lower body several times until I heard him scream and keel over. I was pretty sure I'd shot his knee or thigh, but I didn't have time to check - the second he was distracted enough I started running, slipping and sliding on the floor until I made it back to the stairs. I didn't stop to see what had caused the noise, I just kept moving.

I was hurtling down the stairs, adrenaline pumping through me, when suddenly my feet lost contact with the floor and I was falling through the air. I'd caught myself on the nail again, this time tearing through the skin of the side of my foot as I plummeted down.

When I hit the ground I blacked out.

My only vague memories as I drifted in and out of consciousness were strangers carrying me.

Strange men with guns and foreign accents.

A/N TWO UPDATES IN ONE NIGHT?! You best believe it!!! Please let me know all your theories:)

Next update might not come for over a week as I'm going to Amsterdam on Thursday so won't have much time to write and I've got a formative essay to finish before then.

Enjoy the week guys,

E