Page 94 of My Crazy Killers
I pace my cell all evening, terrified of what’s to come. And when the dinner cart comes through, I barely eat anything. As usual, I toss Dimitri my roll, knowing that we’re given the same amount of food, but he needs way more calories than I do. I’d already noticed he’s lost weight since I’ve been in here.
I’m pacing my cell when I hear the door open, and two pairs of heavy footsteps draw near. My head whips up, my frightened eyes meeting Dimitri’s.
“Fight like hell, killer,” he says, squeezing his bars so tight you’d think he was trying to bend them.
I step back to the center of my cell and clench my fists, letting my fear turn to anger to help fuel me.
When they step up in front of my cell, they’re smiling, and it takes everything I have not to show them how scared I am right now.
Aleks unlocks my cell and opens the door, letting Mikhail step inside.
“Hands,” he says, holding out a set of cuffs.
I’d thought about this a lot, all day in fact. Would it be better to hold my ground here or fight them when we reach the showers? Both had their advantages and disadvantages. But in the end, I decided I wanted to keep my clothes on for this fight, so take a step back and raise my fists as I assume a fighting stance.
He bursts out laughing, looking at me like I’m the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and not a threat. He’s not wrong. I haven’t been taught any hand-to-hand combat, something I was ready to rectify. Dimitri had offered me a few tips, but now that I’m actually facing off against two armed guards, I realize I have no chance of making it out of this unscathed.
But I refuse to go down without a fight.
“You want to fight, little doll?” he asks with a grin. I don’t move. I just level him with my most determined glare as I wait for him to make the first move.
A door bangs open down the hall, followed by the distinct sound of a cart. Mikhail frowns, stepping out of my cell with Aleks to frown down the hall.
“Dinner!” Someone yells in Russian.
“What is this?” Mikhail asks. “They already had dinner.”
“Dinner!” The voice says again, and the sound of the wheels draws closer.
“Hey, he’s talking to you,” Aleks yells at the incoming guard. “What are you doing? They’ve already been fed.”
There’s a pause, then the man replies in Russian, “Delicious.” My eyes widen in shock. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize his voice straight away. Slowly, I step forward, and as soon as I catch sight of his face, my emotions betray me as a whimper escapes my throat.
Peter.
Mikhail’s head whips around to me. “Hey, get back!” he shouts, seeing I’m close to the open cell. Pete uses that distraction to lift his own baton and slam it across the back of Mikhail’s head, making him drop like a sack of bricks.
Aleks pulls his radio from his belt, but before he can get out a single word, an arm wraps around his neck as Dimitri yanks him backward against the front of his cell.
“Disgusting coward,” Dimitri whispers before snapping his neck. The distinct crack rings out right before he lets go, and Aleks drops to the ground.
“Dios mio!” I gasp, looking at the two downed guards.
“Wren!”
My head shoots up as Pete rounds the cart and closes the distance between us. He wraps his arms around me tightly and lifts me off my feet. I press my face into his neck as I tell him, “I knew you’d come.”
“Always,” he whispers back.
“Not to break this up, but you two better get going,” Dimitri says in Russian. I translate for Pete as I bend down and grab the keys from Aleks's belt.
“Wren, are you sure you can trust him?” Pete asks when he sees I’m about to unlock Dimitri’s cell.
I nod, glancing at Pete. “Yes, he’s tried to help protect me from the guards.”
I unlock the cell and pull the door open. “Come with us?” I ask him.
He takes the keys from me and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, killer. I got plans here before I leave.”
