CHAPTER 6 – THE BULLET THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
CHAPTER 6 – THE BULLET THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The room remained silent.
Alina kept her eyes on the rain-speckled window, her fingers wrapped tightly around her mother's silver cross.
"I said I'm all right," she repeated softly.
Still no answer.
A strange feeling settled over her.
Mrs. Petrova always responded.
Always.
Slowly, she turned.
The black muzzle of a suppressed pistol was less than three feet from her chest.
A man dressed in a dark maintenance uniform stood inside her room as though he belonged there.
He wore no mask.
Only a calm smile.
"So," he said, "you're Alina."
Every instinct screamed at her to run.
But there was nowhere to go.
The window overlooked a three-story drop into the stone courtyard.
The bedroom door stood behind him.
"You've caused quite a bit of trouble."
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Who are you?"
"Someone delivering a message."
He took one slow step closer.
"You have two choices."
"The first?"
"You come with me."
"And the second?"
He smiled.
"I take your body instead."
Downstairs, Kirill was halfway through organizing the security sweep when every light on the surveillance board flashed red.
A technician spun around.
"Motion sensor!"
"Where?"
"Third floor."
Kirill leaned closer.
"Servants' wing."
His blood ran cold.
"Alina."
He grabbed his radio.
"Lock every corridor!"
No response.
Only static.
The technician's hands froze over the keyboard.
"They've jammed our communications."
Kirill didn't wait another second.
He sprinted toward the staircase.
Inside the bedroom, the stranger noticed Alina glance toward the door.
He chuckled.
"No one's coming."
"You'd be surprised."
She wasn't trying to sound brave.
She was buying time.
The man appreciated it.
"I like you."
"That's unfortunate."
His smile widened.
"I can see why Damon noticed."
At the mention of Damon's name, Alina's expression changed.
The assassin saw it instantly.
"So it's true."
She frowned.
"What is?"
"He does care."
She realized her mistake too late.
The tiny flicker in her eyes had answered the question for him.
He sighed dramatically.
"Roman will be pleased."
He raised the pistol.
"Unfortunately..."
"...you're worth more dead than alive now."
A thunderous crash exploded from the hallway.
The bedroom door flew inward.
Kirill entered first.
His pistol fired before his second foot touched the floor.
The assassin dove sideways.
The silenced weapon barked twice.
Bullets shattered the mirror behind Alina.
Glass rained across the room.
"Down!" Kirill shouted.
Alina dropped behind the bed.
The assassin rolled across the floor with astonishing speed, kicking over a dresser to block Kirill's next shot.
Two more guards rushed in.
Gunfire filled the room.
Then—
Everything stopped.
The assassin had disappeared.
Kirill looked toward the open wardrobe.
Behind it, a narrow maintenance hatch stood open.
"He escaped."
One guard cursed.
"He knew the house."
Kirill's face darkened.
"Another insider."
Before anyone could move, Damon appeared in the doorway.
Every person in the room stared.
He should have been in bed.
Instead, he stood in a fresh black shirt, the bandage beneath already stained with blood.
The doctor, panting several steps behind him, looked furious.
"I told you not to move!"
Damon ignored him completely.
His eyes searched the room.
Broken mirror.
Bullet holes.
Shattered furniture.
Then—
They found Alina.
She was kneeling beside the bed, tiny cuts from flying glass across her hands and cheek.
The moment he saw the blood, something inside him snapped.
He crossed the room despite the pain.
"Are you injured?"
She looked at him in disbelief.
"It's just glass."
He gently lifted one of her hands.
The cuts were shallow.
Still, he inspected each one as though they mattered more than the wound hidden beneath his own shirt.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
Only then did he release a slow breath.
The doctor threw his hands into the air.
"Wonderful."
"The man bleeding through three layers of bandages is checking everyone else."
Kirill approached quietly.
"We have a problem."
Damon didn't look away from Alina.
"I know."
"The assassin got inside because someone disabled the cameras."
"I know."
"And..."
Kirill hesitated.
"We found another body."
That caught Damon's attention.
"Who?"
"The night electrician."
"Dead for at least six hours."
The room became very still.
Kirill continued.
"The man who entered this room..."
"...was wearing his uniform."
An hour later, the mansion was locked down completely.
Every employee gathered in the grand ballroom.
Nearly sixty people.
Maids.
Gardeners.
Drivers.
Chefs.
Security staff.
Everyone stood silently while Kirill walked slowly across the front of the room.
"No one leaves."
No one objected.
One by one, names were checked.
Alibis verified.
Phones collected.
Then Mrs. Petrova frowned.
"Where's Ethan?"
Several servants looked around.
"The new groundskeeper?"
"He was here yesterday."
A guard checked the roster.
"His room is empty."
"When was the last time anyone saw him?"
Silence.
Kirill took the employment file.
There was only one page.
No previous address.
No emergency contact.
Even the identification photograph looked... wrong.
Almost too perfect.
He carried the file directly to Damon.
Damon studied it for less than five seconds.
"This isn't Ethan."
Kirill nodded.
"No."
"It's Roman's man."
"He infiltrated us over a month ago."
Alina felt the room spin.
For weeks...
Someone had lived under the same roof.
Shared meals.
Passed them in the hallways.
Smiled at them.
All while preparing this attack.
Late that evening, Damon stood alone on the balcony outside his study.
Chicago's skyline shimmered beneath the fading light.
He barely noticed.
Kirill joined him.
"She can't stay here."
"I know."
"They'll keep coming."
"I know."
"We need to move her."
Damon remained silent for a long moment.
Finally he spoke.
"There is only one place Roman won't expect."
Kirill looked at him.
"You mean..."
Damon nodded once.
"My mother's house."
Kirill actually blinked.
"No one has lived there since..."
"I know."
"It isn't protected."
"It doesn't need to be."
Kirill understood.
Roman would search safe houses.
Warehouses.
Private estates.
Armed compounds.
He would never imagine Damon hiding the most important person in his life inside the quiet lakeside home that had remained untouched since his mother's death.
"It might work," Kirill admitted.
Damon looked toward the city lights.
"It has to."
Across Chicago, Roman Orlov sat alone in his warehouse office.
One of his men approached cautiously.
"The girl survived."
Roman smiled.
"I expected she would."
"The assassin failed."
"No."
Roman slowly poured himself a glass of whiskey.
"He succeeded."
The man looked confused.
"He confirmed what I needed."
Roman lifted the glass.
"Damon Volkov abandoned his own recovery..."
"...to run to her."
He took a slow sip.
"Now I know exactly where to aim."
He walked to the wall of photographs and calmly removed every picture except one.
The image of Damon holding Alina's bloodied hand.
Roman traced the edge of the photograph with a finger.
"Protect her as much as you like, Damon."
His smile became almost sympathetic.
"In the end..."
"...people don't lose what they fail to protect."
"They lose what they love."
Far across the city, a black SUV quietly rolled out of the Volkov estate under the cover of darkness.
May you like
Inside, Alina believed she was finally being taken somewhere safe.
Neither she nor Damon noticed the small GPS tracker, no larger than a coin, magnetically attached beneath the vehicle moments before it left the estate.
