"Grisha, take point on the south entrance. Vadim, cover the north. I want every exit blocked before we move on the main building."
We reach the warehouse complex as the sun sets behind the industrial skyline. The building sits dark against the sky, its windows broken and boarded over with sheets of plywood. Theparking lot is empty except for the two vehicles Grisha identified in the surveillance footage.
I position my men around the perimeter and wait for their signals through our radio system. One by one, they confirm their positions with brief, professional reports. When everyone is ready, I key my mic and give the order they've been waiting for.
"Move."
We hit the main entrance with overwhelming force, the door exploding inward under the impact of a ram. My men pour into the building in a coordinated wave, and gunfire erupts immediately as muzzle flashes light up the darkness. Bullets whine off concrete walls and support pillars while I drop to one knee behind cover and return fire.
Two men fall in the first exchange, but more are shooting from the catwalks above us. The warehouse echoes with the sound of automatic weapons, and I can hear my men moving through the space with calm voices over the radio as they clear sections of the building.
I advance through the maze of abandoned equipment with my rifle ready, stepping over the body of a man who made the mistake of trying to ambush me from behind a stack of pallets. More gunfire comes from the left side of the building, but it's sporadic now as we systematically eliminate the resistance.
"Building is secure," Vadim reports over the radio. "No more resistance."
I move toward the back corner where Grisha indicated the van had stopped, finding a corridor that leads to several smaller rooms with heavy steel doors. I check each one systematically, shooting the locks apart when they don't open to my touch.
The third door is locked, and I put two rounds into the mechanism before kicking it open. Zoya sits in a metal chair with her head down, wearing a thin gray dress I don't recognize. Herfeet are bare, and a camera blinks in the corner with its red light still recording.
"Zoya."
She looks up with unfocused eyes that take a moment to recognize me. "Maksim?"
"I'm here." I cross the room and lift her from the chair, surprised by how light she feels in my arms. Her skin is cold to the touch, and I can feel her trembling against my chest.
"I knew you'd come," she whispers, and the trust in her voice makes my chest tighten.
I carry her toward the door, but the smell of smoke stops me before we reach the corridor. Gray wisps drift down the hallway, and I can hear the crackle of flames somewhere deeper in the building.
"Grisha!"
"Fire in the main warehouse." His voice crackles over the radio. "Building's compromised. We need to move now."
I adjust Zoya in my arms and run toward the exit as the smoke gets thicker with each step. I can feel heat from the flames behind us, and something explodes in the distance—probably fuel drums or electrical equipment catching fire.
The corridor fills with smoke that burns my lungs and makes my eyes water. I pull my jacket over Zoya's face and push forward, knowing that the exit is twenty meters ahead but barely able to see through the gray haze.
"This way." Grisha appears beside me with his rifle slung across his back. "I'll cover you."
We move together through the burning building while more explosions echo behind us. The building shudders under the impact, and pieces of debris fall from the ceiling as the structure begins to fail. I duck and keep moving with my focus entirely on reaching the door.
Fresh air hits my face as we burst out of the building, and I carry Zoya to the waiting cars where Vadim has the engine running. The warehouse behind us is fully engulfed now, with flames shooting through the roof and lighting up the night sky.
"Hospital," I tell Vadim as I slide into the back seat with Zoya still in my arms.
"No," Grisha says from the front passenger seat. "It's too dangerous. They'll try again."
He's right about the hospital being too public and too exposed for someone the Karpin faction wants dead. "The estate. Get Valya."
Vadim drives fast through the city streets while I hold Zoya in the back seat, monitoring her shallow breathing and weak pulse. She hasn't opened her eyes since we left the warehouse, and soot stains her face while her body remains limp against mine.
"Stay with me," I murmur, but she doesn't respond.
We reach the estate in twenty minutes, and Valya is waiting in the main house with her medical bag ready. She's been treating Bratva injuries for fifteen years, and she knows how to keep quiet about what she sees while providing the kind of care that hospitals ask too many questions about.
"Smoke inhalation," I tell her as I carry Zoya to the guest room. "She was unconscious when we found her."
Valya nods and begins her examination carefully with gloved hands and a stern expression. "Everyone out. I need space to work."
