Goddess Of Vengeance.
Chapter 8.
| Author's POV |
The air inside the mansion did not shatter all at once.
It cracked.
First came the low, rhythmic thumping of heavy blades slicing through the grey evening clouds—helicopters.
Then came the perimeter alarms, a high-pitched scream that tore through the corridors, immediately followed by the shattering of the outer gates.
Inside the main pavilion, everything had went chaotic. Weapons were drawn from hidden holsters in a matter of seconds.
"Get the perimeter locked down!" Asher's voice boomed over the noise, his massive frame already positioned like a human shield in front of Reina.
Meanwhile, Mia was pale, her fingers digging into the leather of Landon's tactical vest, but her jaw was set, her own pistol raised and ready.
She didn't look back. She let Landon pull her toward the reinforced security doors leading to the subterranean levels.
A few meters away, Kyle had his arm locked firmly around Rai. His face was a mask of cold, unforgiving stone.
He kept Rai pressed tightly against his side, his body absorbing the brunt of the concussive force from the distant explosions as they moved backward toward the central line.
"Brandon! Move!" Nikolai shouted, his voice cutting through the smoke that was beginning to billow from the ventilation shafts.
He was already firing, sending three precise rounds down the eastern corridor where the first wave of attackers had broken through the glass facade.
Nikolai was right beside him, his rifles bullet clearing the corridor long enough for them to fall back into the main hall.
"Gareth is already outside holding the courtyard entry!" Brandon yelled, ducking as few bullets dug inside the marble pillar right above his head.
Nikolai’s face was twisted into a snarl of pure, unadulterated rage, his eyes dark with the thrill of the hunt and the fury.
He didn't say a word to Brandon but his body remained an immovable barrier between his lotus flower and the oncoming fire as they formed the rearguard, pushing the core of the family toward the main escape tunnel.
The family was whole.
They were an army unto themselves. Saving their own, protecting their loved ones, and painting the marble floors with the blood of anyone foolish enough to think they can harm anyone.
But the estate was massive.
And unfortunately, the east wing was a mile away.
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"Miss Sokolov! We have to move now! Now!"
The two bodyguards assigned to her door—Boris and Lev—had burst into the room with their weapons drawn, their faces slick with sweat and desperation.
They didn't look at her with the icy facade she had grown used to over the last two months.
In this moment, they saw a direct order from the Sokolov Heir.
"I... I can't," Maya whispered. The words didn't even leave her throat; they were swallowed by the frantic, roaring of her own pulse.
Her mind had completely fractured.
The sound of the alarms wasn't the estate's warning system, it was the sound of the jungle.
The smell of the smoke wasn't from the burning gates, it was the smell of the damp, rotting leaves where she had been broken.
Every person running across the plush carpet was a hand reaching out to tear her clothes, to pull her back into the dark.
"Miss Sokolov, stand up!" Boris roared, grabbing her upper arm.
The moment his fingers clamped onto her skin, a high-pitched, breathless shriek tore from her lungs. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me, please! I didn't tell him anything... Ilya... please—"
"She’s having a breakdown" Lev swore, his eyes darting toward the hallway as the sound of gunfire began to draw closer to the eastern corridor. "We don't have time for this. Pick her up!"
They didn't wait for her consent. They couldn't. Boris yanked her upward by her arms, but Maya’s legs were entirely unresponsive, dragging uselessly behind her like dead weight.
Her bare feet, already scarred from her own frantic paranoias, smudged against the floorboards as they literally hoisted her off the ground.
She was hyperventilating so severely that her chest was concave, her lips turning a faint, terrifying shade of blue as her lungs refused to expand.
"My phone..." she choked out, her fingers clawing frantically at Boris’s tactical vest, her eyes wild and bloodshot as she stared back at the bedroom. "I don't have... I don't have my phone..."
"Forget the phone! The network is jammed anyway!" Lev shouted, firing two rounds down the intersecting hallway as a shadow crossed the far archway.
"The main escape tunnel is cut off! They’ve breached the central line. We have to take the secondary service stairs to the lower cellars!"
They were rushing her. The speed was agonizing.
Maya couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't distinguish between the ghosts in her head and the men currently dying in the hallways around her.
The world was a spinning wheel of grey stone, flashing red lights, and the deafening, concussive rhythm of gunfire.
They reached the top of the narrow, concrete service stairs when the air suddenly exploded into a shower of sparks and drywall.
Three attackers surged from the lower landing, their weapons raised.
Lev reacted instantly, throwing his weight forward and emptying his gun into the chest of the lead shooter, but the return fire was a chaotic, sweeping hail of lead.
Thwack. Thwack.
Maya felt a sudden, white-hot line of agony slice across the right side of her stomach.
It wasn't a deep penetration, but the heat of the bullet grazing her flesh was instant, an intense pain that felt like a hot iron being pressed directly against her skin.
She gasped, her hands flying down to cover her waist as warm, slick crimson began to seep through the thin fabric of her shirt, staining her fingers.
"She’s hit!" Boris yelled, his voice sounding distant, as if he were shouting from underwater.
He dragged her backward, his own weapon barking as he eliminated the remaining threat on the stairs. "Hold your stomach, Miss Sokolov! Keep pressure on it!"
But Maya couldn't hear him anymore. The sight of her own blood—the bright, terrifying red coating her palms—was the final hammer blow to her fragile sanity.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She simply let her eyes roll back into her head, her body going completely, utterly limp in Boris's arms as the darkness finally rose up to swallow her whole.
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Deep beneath the central line, the main escape tunnel's heavy iron security doors had just slammed shut behind the family, sealing out the noise, the smoke, and the immediate threat of the attackers.
The air down here was cool and damp, smelling of old stone and grease.
Kyle leaned against the concrete wall, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as Rai immediately began checking the front of his shirt for fresh blood.
His wound was intact, but the strain was obvious.
Across from them, Landon and Mia were already reloading their weapons, their movements synchronized and silent, while Killian and Gareth stood near the secondary security panel, his eyes glued to the internal monitors.
"The courtyard is clear," Gareth said. "We’ve pushed them back to the tree line. The armored transports are ready at the secondary exit."
Asher kept his arm locked around Reinawaist, his eyes scanning the tunnel ahead, ensuring the path was entirely secure before allowing her to step forward.
Mia was shivering slightly now that the adrenaline was fading, her head resting against Landon’s shoulder as he whispered something low and fierce into her ear.
Nikolai stood at the rear of the group, his chest heaving as he wiped a smear of someone else's blood from his cheek with the back of his leather glove.
Brandon was right beside him, his fingers lightly brushing against Nikolai’s elbow—a quiet, grounding gesture that usually brought him back from the brink of his worst episodes.
Nikolai took a deep breath, his eyes automatically moving down the line of the family, counting the heads out of pure, drilled habit.
Brandon. Rai. Kyle. Mia. Killian. Gareth. Reina. Asher.
Nikolai’s breath caught in his throat.
The air in his lungs suddenly felt ten degrees colder.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation began to twist in the deepest pit of his stomach—not the sharp, burning heat of rage, but a heavy weight of absolute dread.
He counted again.
Eight.
His mind went back to the tactical map of the estate.
The east wing.
Maya.
Maya.
They had forgotten her
She wasn't in the tunnel.
She wasn't with the main guard.
She was a mile away, in a wing that had been directly in the path of the initial helicopter landing.
"Nikolai?" Brandon whispered, noticing the sudden, terrifying stillness that had overtaken his frame. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Nikolai didn't answer him. He didn't even look at him.
He remembered the way she had shaken under his hands, the way she had collapsed into a pathetic, broken ball on the floor, completely incapable of defending herself against a shadow, let alone a squad of professional assassins.
"Niko!" Brandon’s voice was sharper now, reaching out to grab his wrist.
Nikolai shook his head, his dark eyes snapping to his father, then to Killian, who was standing near the heavy iron doors.
"The east wing," Nikolai said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that made every head in the tunnel turn toward him. "Where are the reports from the east wing?"
Killian’s fingers froze over the security panel. He didn't look up as he tapped a few keys, his face draining of color as the internal data feed finally updated.
"The secondary service stairs... Boris and Lev checked in three minutes ago. Maya...Maya is in Boris's arms. They’re taking heavy fire. They’re trying to reach the tunnel."
Everyone in the tunnel froze.
Nikolai turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto his Killian’s eyes.
Before anyone could stop them, Nikolai and Killian lunged forward.
"Nikolai!" Brandon yelled, his hand catching the edge of Nikolai’s jacket one last time.
"Stay with our family," Nikolai commanded over his shoulder, his eyes dark and entirely devoid of hesitation. "If we do come not back in ten minutes, take the transports and leave."
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A/N - Next chapter after 25 likes and 15 comments.
P. S. - Maya's mental heath us utterly sensitive and unstable. She is not weak. She is not dramatic. She is fighting enough with herself and do not have time to fight with the outer world.