Chapter 6 - The Sacrifice
"Get down!" Damon screamed, rolling over me and using his body as a human shield as the explosion tore through the foyer.
The deafening blast knocked the breath out of my lungs. Shrapnel and stone rained down, creating a thick screen of grey smoke. I coughed violently, my ears ringing painfully.
"Damon!" I cried out, clawing through the dust.
He was lying beside me, gasping for air. Blood was pouring from a wound on his shoulder, and his face was bruised, but he was still conscious. He looked at me through heavy eyelids, forcing a bloody smile.
"Still... breathing..." he choked out.
From the fog, Marco Moretti stepped forward, holding a shotgun. His men had secured the perimeter around us, cutting off all escape routes.
"End of the line, Volkov," Marco sneered, racking the slide of his shotgun. "The great Damon Volkov, brought down by a explosion for a little girl."
Marco pointed the barrel directly at Damon's head.
My heart stopped. Time seemed to slow down. Panic gave way to a cold, burning resolve. I looked down at my hand—the small automatic pistol Damon had given me was still clutched in my grip, buried beneath the dust.
I raised the gun, leveled it at Marco's chest, and pulled the trigger.
BANG! BANG!
The shots echoed like thunder. Marco gasped in shock, dropping his shotgun as two holes opened in his chest. He staggered backward, falling over the grand staircase railing and crashing down into the courtyard below.
The remaining mercenaries were momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events. That second was all Kirill needed. Bursting into the foyer with five heavily armed Volkov loyalists, Kirill opened fire, eliminating the remaining intruders in a relentless hail of bullets.
"Boss! Alina!" Kirill shouted, sprinting over through the clearing smoke. "Are you alright?!"
I dropped the gun, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I collapsed beside Damon. "He's hurt! He took the blast for me!"
Damon reached up with a bloodied hand, gently resting his palm against my cheek. "You... shot him..." he whispered, awe shining through his pain.
"You said I was the reason you were fighting to stay alive," I wept, gripping his hand tight. "I wasn't going to let him take you away from me."
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Damon let out a weak laugh before his eyes rolled back, slipping into unconsciousness once more.
"We need to move him now!" Kirill ordered, signaling his men to lift Damon onto a gurney. "The estate is compromised, but our safehouse in Lake Geneva is ready!"
