Russian Doll

The Hour

I'm not usually so careless as to turn my back on someone who has yet to gain my trust.

This time was different. This time I truly believed that I had him wrapped around my little finger.

I was wrong. I realise this when something cold and hard is pushed into my back, digging into my skin and causing me to wince. Not in pain, of course. At my stupidity. I had been played, and that didn't happen very often.

"On your knees," came the gruff voice.

I could take him now. Drop to the ground and sweep his legs out from under him.

He wouldn't have a chance.

But there's something about him that makes me hesitate. The way he's pressing the gun into me firmly. The way he manhandles me to the ground when I don't immediately comply. I can tell he's done this before. 

So I let him. 

I allow myself to be forced to the ground as I hear the click of handcuffs. Feel them bite into my wrists.

Who are you?  The question starts to form on my lips, but I swallow it. I'm not going to give him the pleasure of being able to ignore me, no matter how badly I want to know.

He's probably an undercover agent of sorts. Someone sent to bring me into custody before I can cause any more damage.

I'm proved wrong when I hear the hammer of a gun being pulled back, and that's when I realise that he has pulled me to my knees.

Execution.

The thought has barely crossed my mind when I hear the sound of glass shattering and what must be the gun hitting the floor.

I don't waste any time, rolling under the nearby bed and quickly picking my handcuffs with the clasp of my bracelet before looking around to see what had happened. I'm met with the sight of my captor sprawled out across the floor, unseeing eyes turned on me, mouth parted in an expression of shock. I'm confused as to what had caused his untimely demise until I see the arrow sticking out of his back.

It must have pierced his heart, killing him instantly.

I turn my eyes to the window, which is now sporting a rather large hole in which the arrow must have come through.

Whoever shot it must have extremely good eyesight, or else they wouldn't have been able to make the shot, which must have been taken from one of the office buildings opposite.

I make quick work of wriggling out of my hiding place and scooping up the gun, which my captor must have dropped when he was killed. I walk over to the door, pausing just before my hand touches the handle.

On a whim, I walk back over to the body in the middle of the floor and retrieve my phone, knowing him to have taken it a few minutes prior.

He no longer had any use for it.

I pick up my high heels and fling open the apartment door, and that's when I see him.

The man I know to be one of America's greatest heroes is standing at the end of the corridor, ready to let his arrow fly.

It takes me all of 2 seconds to raise the gun and pull the hammer back, my gaze never leaving the man in front of me.

We face off for what seems like forever.

I don't move.

Neither does he.

I slowly bend down to place my shoes on the ground, adjusting my dress when I'm once again standing. What I don't do, however, is put down the gun. If anything, my grip on it tightens.

There's no way I'm going to throw away my only chance of survival.

Well, that's not entirely true.

I still have my fists.

I'm in the middle of going through all the possible ways I could kill him without moving an inch when he speaks.

"Oпусти пистолет, наталья," he says in almost impeccable Russian.

I did say almost.

The accent is unmistakable.

My finger tightens on the trigger.

"Not a chance," I retort, switching to English, and might I say that my English is perfect.

Even from this distance, I see the flicker of surprise in his eyes when I utter a few words in his own language. He obviously didn't know that I am fluent in several languages, including English. Fool.

He takes one step forward, and I move my other hand up to steady the gun. He seems to take the hint because he stops.

"Natalia, I-"

I will never know what it was that he was going to say.

I pull the trigger before he can finish his sentence.