Chapter 9 - The Traitor Within
The silence in the subterranean bunker was thick, choking, poisoned with the smell of death and ozone.
Roman stared at his right hand. His chest heaved, his dark hair soaked with sweat and blood, his shirt torn to ribbons. His gun remained leveled directly at Nikolai’s heart.
"Why did you take the shot, Nikolai?" Roman asked, his voice dead, quiet, and infinitely terrifying. "He was about to give up the architect."
Nikolai slowly lowered the rifle, stepping down the stairs with deliberate, calm steps. He didn't raise his hands, but he didn't reach for another weapon either.
"He had a dead-man's switch in his left cuff, Boss," Nikolai said, his face completely expressionless. "Look at his wrist."
Roman kept his gun trained on Nikolai as I cautiously stepped toward Julian’s body. I looked down at his left sleeve. Peeking out from the shredded silk was a tiny digital transmitter, blinking with a steady green light.
"If his pulse flatlined without his finger holding the relay, the auxiliary charges in the west wing would have detonated," Nikolai explained, coming to a halt ten paces away. "I took his head off to disrupt the neurological signal before he could release the switch. The compound would have collapsed on you both."
Roman stared at his soldier for five agonizing seconds. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Then, slowly, Roman lowered his weapon.
"Clear the bodies," Roman commanded, his voice trembling slightly with sheer exhaustion. "Bring the mobile medical unit to the lower quarters. Now."
"Yes, Boss." Nikolai nodded, turning to signal the cleanup crew waiting above.
I rushed to Roman’s side. He swayed, his massive frame suddenly losing its rigidity. I caught him under his uninjured arm, wrapping my body around his, taking as much of his weight as my smaller frame could bear.
"I’ve got you," I whispered, tears blinding me again. "I’ve got you, Roman."
"Serena..." he rasped, his head falling heavily onto my shoulder, his warm breath fanning against my collarbone. "The ring."
"What?"
"The ring... did you leave it?"
I choked back a sob, half-laughing through my tears as I supported him toward the emergency medical suite down the hall.
"I have the box, you idiot. The new one."
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"Put it on," he murmured, his consciousness slipping as shock and blood loss finally caught up to his titanic frame. "Never take it off again. Promise me."
"I promise," I wept, dragging him through the blast doors. "I promise."
