CHAPTER 3 – THE FIRST NAME ON THE KILL LIST
CHAPTER 3 – THE FIRST NAME ON THE KILL LIST
The first impact rattled the office door so hard the brass handle jumped.
Boom.
Another hit followed.
Boom.
Whoever was outside wasn't trying to sneak in anymore.
They intended to break through.
Every guard in the room raised his weapon.
Kirill stepped in front of Damon without waiting for an order.
"Get him to the panic room."
"No."
Damon's voice was weak but unmistakable.
"If I move now, I'll bleed out before we get there."
The doctor didn't argue.
For once, the mafia boss was right.
Moving him could tear the fresh stitches apart.
Another crash.
Splinters burst from the heavy oak door.
One hinge bent inward.
"They've brought a ram," one guard muttered.
Kirill spoke into his radio.
"Status."
Static.
Then a strained voice answered.
"South staircase lost."
Another burst of gunfire echoed through the mansion.
"Library team is down."
Silence.
Then—
"They knew the floor plan."
Kirill's jaw tightened.
"There was a leak."
No one responded.
No one had to.
Someone inside the Volkov organization had sold them out.
Alina's hands were still stained with Damon's blood.
She looked down at them.
They were trembling.
Not because of the shooting.
Because for the first time in her life she understood what it meant to become part of someone else's war.
An hour ago she had been a waitress.
Now armed men were breaking into the house where she worked.
Because she had chosen to stay.
Mrs. Petrova's old warning drifted back into her mind.
"The safest people in this house are the ones Mr. Volkov has never noticed."
Too late.
He had noticed.
The third strike nearly tore the door off.
One guard shouted.
"They're through!"
Kirill pointed toward the rear wall.
"Bookshelf."
Two guards pulled an antique globe.
The massive bookshelf slid sideways without a sound, revealing a narrow concrete passage hidden behind it.
Alina stared.
A secret tunnel.
Kirill grabbed Damon beneath one arm.
"We're moving."
Damon tried to stand.
Pain hit him immediately.
His knees buckled.
Blood seeped through the clean bandages.
He caught himself against the desk before collapsing.
"I said..." he hissed through clenched teeth, "...I'm not leaving."
The doctor swore under his breath.
"He's reopening everything."
Another explosion rocked the hallway.
Dust floated from the ceiling.
The lights flickered.
One guard looked toward Kirill.
"They'll breach in seconds."
Kirill made a decision.
"You two carry him."
Before either guard reached Damon, he lifted one hand.
"No."
Even wounded, the single word stopped everyone.
His breathing was uneven now.
His face had become frighteningly pale.
Yet his authority hadn't faded at all.
Then his eyes shifted.
Past Kirill.
Past the guards.
Until they settled on Alina.
"Come here."
The room went silent.
She hesitated only a second before stepping closer.
"What do you need?"
He looked at her as though weighing something far heavier than his own survival.
"If they get in..."
His voice was rough.
"...they will take you first."
She blinked.
"What?"
"They saw you come upstairs."
Kirill understood immediately.
"The cameras."
Damon nodded once.
"They know someone treated me."
Alina's stomach dropped.
She had never imagined strangers watching security footage, freezing the frame on her face.
To them she wasn't Alina Cole.
She was evidence.
A witness.
Someone to torture for information.
The office door cracked down the middle.
A rifle barrel pushed through the opening.
One of Damon's guards fired instantly.
The hallway erupted into gunfire.
Wood exploded.
Glass shattered.
The smell of burned gunpowder filled the room.
Kirill shoved Alina toward the hidden passage.
"Go!"
"I can't leave you."
"You can and you will."
"I'm not abandoning everyone."
Kirill's expression hardened.
"This isn't bravery."
"It's stupidity."
Before she could answer, Damon spoke again.
"Alina."
It was the first time he had ever said her name while looking directly into her eyes.
No titles.
No distance.
Just her name.
Something inside her chest tightened.
"I need you alive."
Not stay safe.
Not hide.
He needed her alive.
The words carried a weight she couldn't explain.
Outside, someone shouted in Russian.
Then—
A voice answered in perfect English.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The gunfire stopped.
An eerie silence spread across the hallway.
The stranger laughed.
"We know Damon Volkov is bleeding in there."
Nobody moved.
The man continued.
"We're willing to be reasonable."
Kirill rolled his eyes.
"There it is."
The stranger's voice echoed through the shattered door.
"Send out the waitress."
Alina froze.
The room seemed to shrink around her.
"That's all we want."
Another pause.
"We don't even need Mr. Volkov."
A lie.
Everyone knew it.
"We simply have a few questions for the girl."
Damon's expression changed.
Not with fear.
Not with panic.
With something colder.
The same look people whispered about across Chicago.
The look that appeared just before entire organizations disappeared.
He slowly reached beneath the sofa cushion.
Kirill looked down.
"No."
Damon ignored him.
His fingers wrapped around a compact black pistol hidden inside the furniture.
The doctor stared in disbelief.
"You've lost nearly two liters of blood."
"I know."
"You can barely stand."
"I know."
"You can't fight."
Damon checked the magazine with one practiced movement.
Then pulled back the slide.
The metallic click echoed through the office.
His gray eyes never left the broken doorway.
"They touched..."
His voice was almost gentle.
"...someone under my roof."
Outside, the stranger called again.
"Last chance."
Kirill whispered, "Boss..."
Damon rose to his feet.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Blood immediately stained the fresh bandages beneath his shirt.
He swayed once.
Then steadied himself.
Somehow he seemed even more terrifying wounded than whole.
Because every man in the room knew exactly what it had cost him to stand.
He looked toward Alina one final time.
"Whatever happens next..."
A faint, almost invisible smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"...don't look back."
Before anyone could stop him—
May you like
Damon Volkov stepped directly into the line of fire.
And the first shot rang out.
