With a sudden burst of strength, Eleanor flung the pen aside and swept the fake documents off the table onto the dirty kitchen floor. Victor’s face twisted with rage. His fists clenched, and for one terrible second it looked as though he was about to hit her. Alex stumbled backward, suddenly realizing the situation had gone far beyond fraud and into something much worse.
Victor took a heavy step toward Eleanor, eyes bloodshot, a low animal sound rising in his throat. She shut her eyes, bracing herself. But at that exact moment the long, piercing wail of the city siren rose outside, signaling a major missile attack.
The whole apartment building shuddered with the first distant blast. Somewhere on the edge of the city, air defense had engaged, and the old windowpanes rattled in their frames. Victor instinctively ducked, losing his balance for a second, while the frightened notary bolted for the hallway. In the middle of that chaos, Eleanor heard something else—a key turning slowly in the front door lock with a harsh metallic scrape…
The sound made Eleanor’s heart stop, but hope gave way almost instantly to fresh fear. Another large man stepped into the apartment, and Victor greeted him with a curt nod. It was obvious this was an accomplice, there to help finish the job and break what little resistance Eleanor had left.
Explosions continued in the distance, making the walls of the old building tremble in rhythm with Eleanor’s pulse. Dust drifted down onto the kitchen table, where the forged papers still lay. Victor grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her toward the hallway, telling her her time in the apartment was over.
While this quiet betrayal played out in the city, Michael Carter was fighting his own battle against death in the east. He moved carefully through the wreckage of a factory floor, supporting the young machine gunner called Kid, who could barely feel his legs. Every yard cost them dearly. Enemy patrols were still combing the ruins for survivors.
Michael could feel warm blood soaking through his clothes, but the thought of his mother in danger gave him strength that felt almost unnatural. He knew he had to get his men back to friendly lines no matter the cost. Ahead, through the fog, lay a strip of trees—their only real chance to disappear from thermal scopes and make it out alive…
