Alena’s Revenge by K.A Knight
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alena
It’s early morning now. We have been hunting and killing all day and most of the night. I’m tired, but not willing to give up. We are ending this before sunrise. Idris knows where to go, and when we get there, he adds more weapons to his frame and passes me several.
“He’ll have protection,” is all he says. We are outside a mansion on the outskirts of the city. One of those godawful, old money ones. The iron gate is shut up tight with the lights peeking through the windows, alerting us they are home.
He’s right. I see men patrolling the grounds as we wait parked in the trees opposite the property. “Stay here for a minute,” he murmurs, then leaves me sitting in the dark. I watch him crouch and run across the road before the mansion, but then he blends into the night.
Like a ghost.
He comes back a moment later and has something in his hand. He winks at me and mouths, “Boom,” and then a massive explosion rocks the complex, blowing the gates open and throwing three men into the air. I watch the fire and smoke as he guns the SUV forward. He rams through what’s left of the twisted metal, drives over the men and debris, and pulls right up to the giant, white double doors under the columned arch. Men stream from the door, brought by the noise, and shoot at our car. I duck when it sounds like hail is hitting the vehicle, but they don’t pierce it, thank fuck.
I dart my gaze up when I hear Idris moving. He pulls the pin on something, tosses it out of the window, and then covers me as we press into the seat. Another explosion rocks the earth, and rubble hits the car this time. He’s moving in a second, getting out of the SUV and firing into the smoking mass as my ears ring from the noise.
I watch him clear the doorway and then gesture for me to follow. Gripping my gun tighter, I slip from the smoking car and race up the steps. When I’m behind him, he moves into the room, low and fast, sweeping the space with his gun as he checks it. The entrance is a huge lobby, with a massive chandelier hanging down above us. It has white tile floors, and to the left is a curved staircase with a black banister where a man is currently descending. Idris shoots him. To the right are two doors, which frame an oil painting above a table with flowers. Beyond that is a hallway that leads to the back of the house and who knows what.
They clearly have more money than sense, blood money, earned from flesh trading, the fucker. It makes me want to ruin it all, though Idris has already made a good dent in that with the gate and car and bodies littered about.
“He’ll be upstairs. Go first, I’ll watch our backs,” he orders. I nod, feeling shocked he trusts me to go first. Holding the gun securely, I ascend the first steps sideways, my heart hammering. Adrenaline surges through my veins. I glance over to see him walking backwards, scanning everything, his gun ready.
He’s trusting me, and that’s huge, but I have to focus on our job. One wrong move, and not only do I get myself killed, but him too. I’m okay with dying for revenge, but not him.
Not anyone else for my cause.
The railing runs across a balcony at the top, which overlooks the landing with hallways to the left and right. I press against the wall near the top and look left and see no one, so I move to the other side to look right and have to fall backwards as a shot hits the corner where I just was. Idris catches me, slamming me to the wall as we wait the person out.
When they stop firing, Idris pulls another grenade and tosses it down the corridor. A few seconds later, it detonates, and he rushes up the stairs, races around the corner, and fires. I glance back to make sure no one is sneaking up on us before following after him.
There are two dead men, one in pieces and one with a gunshot wound leaning against the wall, which is coated in gore. Idris checks rooms as he passes, and I rush after him as he clears another. He waits for me at the next door, his hand on the doorknob as I stop before it, gun at the ready. I nod, and he rips it open. I go in firing, hitting the man sleeping in the bed with noise cancelling headphones on. I make sure no one else is in there, and then I leave. We have to clear five more rooms before we reach a study at the end.
The door’s locked. This has to be it. I can’t believe it. He thought it would keep us out, but I’m betting it’s simply to buy time while more of his men and guards arrive. Or it’s just a last stand. Who knows?
The gold doorknob gleams above the lock, and I lean down to try and peek through it. I only catch a glimpse of sofas and a TV. Standing upright, I look to Idris for what to do. I thought he would pick it or check it, but he simply rams his body into it, breaking the door open as he rolls inside. I stay out when a gun goes off, not wanting to be hit as he manages to move behind the sunken brown sofa. There’s a gold framed TV on the wall behind it, and two big bay windows on either side. The carpeted floor is covered in shards of wood from the door, and on the back wall are huge monitors featuring CCTV camera feeds. Not just of the house, but also the city, and I’m betting places where they keep women.
That means the shooter, Nikolić, has to be to the right. I quickly pass the broken doorway and press against the other side of the door to try and see.
He’s crouching behind a huge white desk, his computer and papers on the floor. His arms are braced on the surface, and his gun is aimed right at Idris’s head, which is poking above the sofa, his size hindering him. He smirks, knowing he’s got him. He’s going to fire.
Going to shoot Idris dead.
Not while I’m fucking here.
Taking aim, I ground myself. I have one shot, otherwise he’ll turn that gun on me. Knowing I’m in the open, knowing I have no protection, I do it anyway. He dies, I die. I squeeze the trigger, my heart skipping a beat as time seems to slow down.
I watch it sail through the air, and then suddenly, time speeds back up as it hits him right in the shoulder, throwing him backwards as Idris looks over at me in shock, his mouth open wide. My hands tremble slightly as I drop the gun. I meet Idris’s eyes again. He knows.
I see the truth in his gaze. He knows I just nearly got myself killed to protect him. With his eyes, he warns me that’s not the end of it before he stands and rushes around the desk, dragging Nikolić up and throwing him over it. Nikolić lands on the carpet with a groan, and I step into the room, watching as Idris rounds it again to stand above him, gun aimed at his head.
“You’ll die like your brother did, begging for your meagre fucking life.”
Footsteps sound behind me, and I turn in time to see at least twenty men rushing up the stairs and into the hallway. Fuck. I grab a side table, throw it in front of the damaged door, and duck as they start firing. Gripping my gun tighter, I wait until there’s a break, and then I fire back before ducking and glancing at Idris. His face is in a snarl, and he’s lost in a haze of bloodlust as he pummels his fist into Nikolić. He doesn’t even seem to hear the gun fight going on.
Shit.
“Idris!” I yell as I duck lower, holding my hands over my head as I wait out the shots.
He looks at me, his fist held in the air, Nikolić’s shirt clutched in his other hand. “Keep firing!” he shouts and turns back, punching him again as Nikolić hangs limply from his grasp.
Fuck!
I fire back blindly as the walls explode next to me, plaster and wood raining down. I can barely hear over the gunshots, barely see or think. Still, I keep shooting, giving him his chance for revenge like he gave me, even though it’s probably going to get me killed. I jump when a bullet whizzes past my ear, that was too close. Sitting up, I fire with a scream as my blood drips down my ear. I hit two, but it’s not enough.
“Idris!” I scream desperately, needing him. I look back as my gun clicks empty. He snarls, releasing Nikolić and turning to me. He’s choosing me rather than his revenge. He slides across the floor to my side, swinging his weapon up as I grab the spare from his waistband. Together we hold the surge at bay, pushing them back. We kill them, even though it means Nikolić has time to start crawling away.
When the last guard is down, we look around, panting and covered in debris and blood. Where is that Serbian bastard?
Then I see him. He’s climbing out of a window. Fuck. I drop my gun and run. Idris deserves his revenge. I throw myself at him, grabbing his shirt as he leaps. I fall to the floor, yanking him back in and on top of me. He elbows me, and I grunt, but I wrap myself around him as his elbow connects with my face again. I keep him there until Idris reaches us after checking the hall. He grabs Nikolić, dragging him into the air as I roll onto my back, my nose dripping blood.
Idris meets my eyes, sees the blood, and goes wild.
He slaps him around like a rag doll, throwing him into the walls and around the room as I sit up and watch. Eventually, he gets tired when Nikolić stops fighting, and Idris tosses him to the ground near me. “If you weren’t already a dead man before, now you are. No one hurts my bitch,” he snarls, pulling out his knife and stabbing it through the side of his head.
No drama, no movie lines.
He kills him, ending his reign of terror.
With a grunt, he pulls it free before looking at me. “Let’s go.” I nod, and he helps me to my feet. On our way out of the room, he freezes and meets my eyes. “Go, I’ll meet you outside.” I frown but do as I’m told, walking past the corpses and chaos to the front of the house, where I wait anxiously at the door. I hear him moving around, and then about two minutes later, he comes down the stairs with a smirk.
“I set a fire,” is all he says, and I laugh. We step outside into the early morning light, the sun rising and fresh. Clean. It’s a new day, it’s a new me.
I feel… sad almost. My revenge is over. They are dead. I achieved everything I wanted. I turn to watch flames lick at the windows of the house and crawl through the building.
So… what do I do now? I feel useless.
Idris comes to my side as we watch the house burn, both of us silent. The quiet after a storm.
We stand in the destruction of the smoking, flaming house. Bullets and guns are everywhere, and bodies litter the floor. Blood covers the once pristine walls, and our car is still perched on the front portico.
“What now?” I ask as I sit on the step next to the car and watch the sun rise over the horizon. “I can’t go back to my old life. Yet there is no place for me.” I look up at him then, but he crouches next to me, watching the sunrise. I turn back. He’s silent.
I’m silent as well. He’s going to leave me here, he has to, doesn’t he?
His phone rings, and he answers, putting it on speaker. “I take it it’s done? I have calls from police and fire departments, and a whole lot of alarms going off.” Donald sighs.
“It’s done.”
“Good, so what now, Boogeyman? Can I expect you to die again, or are you back for good?”
He looks at me then, his dark eyes running across my face. “I’m back, but I have a new partner.” He hangs up.
“Partner?” I repeat.
Leaning closer, he cups my bloody, aching cheek. “You were right. I was running, hiding from what I am, but no more. If you want, we can be partners. We’ll find a new life together. A new balance.”
“Really?” I query, searching his face. “What happened to wanting peace? To retirement?”
“I’d rather have you,” he replies, making my heart flip as emotion overwhelms me. For so long, I’ve been alone, scared, and angry. Now I have a new life, a new dawn, and my heart isn’t as dark as it once was.
I throw myself at him, sealing my lips to his as he chuckles, his hand cuffing my neck. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I murmur against his lips.
Yes, I’ll be your partner.
Yes, I’ll be yours.
Just… hell fucking yes.
