espionage [h.s.]

THIRTY THREE

A.N.
Happy Christmas Eve!! 🎄🎄 Decided to update earlier as a lil early xmas gift

I would like to say a big thank you to laurkai for helping me with the Russian translations! I had to add in some more dialogue last minute so the conversation made more sense & I didn't have time to check the translations for those parts, so any of you feel free to correct it bc we all know google translate is a mess

Enjoy this chapter, as always remember to be an active reader! Vote & comment, it helps w engagement so the story grows. And also I just love reading your guys' reactions 🖤

ROCHELLE

I slam my fist into yet another jaw of one of the Russian men, sending his head snapping to the side before I strike my elbow right into his nose, satisfied by the crunch that follows. He growls, his hands reaching out to grab me but I don't give him the chance before once again pulling the trigger and kicking his lifeless body onto the ground, adding to the pile of bodies already scattered across the diner who've tried to bring down Harry and I, but consequently failed.

Just as I'm attempting to catch my breath, yet another body suddenly collides with mine, the impact of the hit sending both of us to the ground. Pain shoots through me as my head harshly smacks against the floor, my jaw clenching angrily as the man climbs on top of me, grabbing both my arms to hold me down. With my restricted mobility, I decide to gather all the moisture in my mouth to spit directly in his face, taking advantage of his momentary distraction to shove him off me and take his position, pinning him down instead.

With one arm pressed tight against his throat, I use my free hand to grab my gun, although much to my surprise, the man below me just laughs in response. "Ostorozhneye, Rochelle," he warns, his words causing me to snap my eyes down to him in shock. "Ty khochesh' ubit' starogo druga?" ["Careful, Rochelle. Do you want to kill an old friend?"]

My body immediately freezes and my grip on the gun slips, the weapon falling down onto the floor at my side. "Y-you're not a Russian," I breathe out, the realisation of who's really beneath me hitting me all at once.

"No, but I think my accent is just as good as yours," he says, one of his eyebrows ticking upwards. "I mean it should be, seeing as Milos taught us both Russian when we worked together."

My heart skips a beat in my chest and my lips part to let out a shaky breath, although any words I want to say to him die on my tongue. With a scoff, he roughly shoves me off him, his strength sending me crashing into the wall behind me. My vision momentarily blurs, but through it I still manage to see Luka, a man I never thought I'd see again, now walking towards Harry.