Derek Holt broke my arm, trapped me in the bathroom, and calmly told me the police would arrest me instead of him

The darkness outside erupted with the flash of flashbangs and the deafening roar of automatic gunfire. Nikolai’s men had launched their ambush from the scaffolding.

Nikolai moved with blinding speed. He grabbed Derek’s gun arm, twisting it upward as a shot fired harmlessly into the ceiling. With a brutal strike to Derek’s throat, Nikolai sent him crashing to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

“Get the box and go!” Nikolai roared over the din of the gunfight.

I grabbed the metal lockbox, clutching it tightly to my chest with my good arm, and scrambled toward the back exit of the study. One of Petrov’s mercenaries blocked my path, raising his rifle. Without thinking, I swung the heavy metal lockbox with all the strength in my left arm, striking him squarely in the temple. He collapsed in a heap.

I didn’t look back. I ran down the stairs, bursting through the rear exit into the foggy alleyway.

But as I reached the end of the alley, a dark sedan screeched to a halt, blocking my path. The door flew open, and a man with cold, cruel eyes and a scar running down his cheek stepped out.

Viktor Petrov.

“Looking for this, Emma?” Viktor asked, holding up a detonator. “Your friend Nikolai is very clever. But he underestimated how much I want that ledger. Hand it over, or I blow this entire block to hell.”

I stood frozen in the cold alley, the metal box heavy in my hand.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from behind me.

“You won’t press that button, Viktor,” Nikolai said, stepping out of the shadows. He was bleeding from a cut on his temple, but his gun was pointed directly at Viktor’s head. “Because if you do, the ledger burns with us. And your father’s little secrets will be scattered to the wind anyway. You lose either way.”

Viktor laughed, a dark, humorless sound. “You think I care about my father’s secrets, Nikolai? I care about survival. The Feds are closing in. That ledger has the routing numbers to every offshore account my family owns. If I don’t get it, I’m ruined. If I have to die, I’m taking you and the girl with me.”

“Then let’s settle this like men,” Nikolai said, tossing his gun onto the wet asphalt. “No weapons. Just you and me. If you win, you take the ledger. If I win, you leave Chicago and never return.”

Viktor stared at Nikolai, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He threw the detonator aside and drew a long, wicked knife from his belt. “I’ve wanted to kill you for ten years, Volkov.”

“Then come and try,” Nikolai whispered.

The clash that followed was brutal, a feral display of strength, skill, and sheer will. Viktor lunged, his knife slicing through the air, but Nikolai parried his blows with practiced ease. They moved like shadows in the fog, punches landing with sickening thuds.

I watched in terror, clutching the box, praying with every fiber of my being for the man who had risked everything to save me.

With a final, desperate surge of strength, Viktor attempted a thrust at Nikolai’s chest. Nikolai ducked beneath the blade, grabbed Viktor’s arm, and snapped it with a sickening crack. Viktor screamed, dropping the knife. Before he could recover, Nikolai delivered a devastating roundhouse kick to his temple, sending him crashing into the brick wall of the alley.

Viktor lay still, unconscious and defeated.

Nikolai stood over him, chest heaving, his face covered in sweat and blood. He looked up at me, his gray eyes searching mine.

“Are you hurt?” he breathed.

“No,” I said, tears of relief flooding my eyes. “I’m okay. We did it, Nikolai.”

Before he could answer, a weak, desperate voice called out from the darkness of the alley.

“It’s… it’s not over.”

Derek was crawling out of the back door of the house, dragging his broken body toward the discarded gun on the pavement. His eyes were wide with a psychotic, desperate rage. He picked up the gun, aiming it directly at my chest.