The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

The Escape, Part Three

"Wait!"

Nadya didn't wait: she stabbed at the man in front of her wildly, screaming. The guard, whoever he was, didn't punch her to get her to stop or anything; all he did was grab her by the wrist holding her arm away from him.

"Let me go, damn you!" Nadya shrieked.

"Please stop." The guard spoke Russian oddly. In fact, she was fairly certain that he wasn't Russian at all. "I'm not hear to hurt you: I'm hear to help."

"Prove it!" Nadya snapped. "Prove to me that you aren't here to hurt me, and I'll stop!"

And then, much to Nadya's surprise, her let her go, allowing her to stab him in the shoulder.

She froze.

"Now do you believe me?" the man grimaced.

Nadya let go of the knife and stepped back. The man didn't grab the knife or anything: he just grabbed his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding. It... well, it looked like it was bleeding quite a bit. Like, more than it should've been. Did she hit some big vein?

"Are you okay?" Nadya whispered.

"It'll heal," the man gruffed. "You're Nadya, yes? I'm supposed to be getting you out of here."

Nadya didn't say anything: she just stared at him, trying to decide if this guy was serious.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Nadya asked.

"I guess you don't," the man said. "But your other option is staying here, and I don't think you'll want to do that when these people know that someone wants you out."

Once again, Nadya didn't say anything. This guy, whoever he was, had a point. As much as she'd hate to admit it.

"Come on," he said, offering her a gas mask. "We've got to get going."

Nadya hesitated. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to run off with this strange man, who'd let her stab him and insisted that she needed to come with him. Did she really know that she could trust him? She didn't: as far as she knew, she was going to run right to her grave.

Then again, if she didn't leave, she'd be standing in her grave, instead.

She took the gas mask. "Let's go."

***

Artturi fired off a shot with each word:

"DAMN!"

BANG!

"YOU!"

BANG!

"ALL!"

BANG!

"TO!"

BANG!

"HELL!"

CLICK!

Last bullet, apparently: Artturi even threw his gun on the ground, apparently frustrated.

Artturi huddled into the cell as the soldiers out in the corridor fired a hailstorm of bullets, his hands clasped over his ears.

"Was that worth it?" Sasha asked. "Was it worth wasting every one of your bullets? I sure hope it made you feel better."

Artturi looked over his shoulder at him, enraged. "Will you shut the hell up?! It's because of you that I'm even in this situation, you know!"