Shadow

by Nadine Nightingale

  Did she just—

  No! Hell, no!

  This has to be a mistake.

  “Dasha,” I yell, jumping up. “What the fuck are you doing? They’re going to kill you.” You should see the trembling trigger fingers. Those guys are seconds away from riddling her with bullets.

  “No, they won’t.” Deveraux steps between us, kicking the gun my way. “You will, Boulder.”

  What the hell is wrong with Deveraux? “She’s your girlfriend!”

  “She’s Shadow, asshole.” Bones picks up the gun and slams it against my chest. “Now, kill her.”

  Dasha is…the woman I eye-fucked at Sin because her eyes looked so familiar. She’s the goddess I ate on her table. The one I’m obsessed with. Fuck, she’s the enemy I slept with?

  Dasha isn’t Dasha.

  She’s Natalia.

  She’s Shadow.

  I look her in the eye. “Tell me they’re lying,” I plead. “Tell me you’re not Shadow.”

  She looks me in the eye, a glimmer of sadness laced into her hard expression. “I can’t, soldier.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” I yell, on the verge of madness.

  “I can’t tell them I’m not Shadow.” Her voice is hard, eyes like flint.

  “What are you saying, Dasha?” My voice is too high, too fucking shaky.

  Deveraux is next to me. “Her real name is Natalia Petrova.” Disgust wrinkles his nose. “Sister of Elena Petrova.”

  “Elena hung herself in Dimitri’s bedroom,” Bones adds.

  I don’t take my eyes off Dasha. “Is that…is that true?”

  She says nothing. And nothing is worse than anything else. It’s a silent confirmation, a fucking admission of guilt, of being—

  “I’m Shadow,” she finally says.

  I have no idea when I lifted the gun, aiming it at her. Sometime between her silence and her admission, I believe. “You’re Shadow.” It’s no longer a question. It’s the ugly, fucked-up truth.

  Dasha smiles. “I am.”

  “You…” My hand trembles. “You killed my brother.”

  She crosses her arms above her chest and frowns. “I killed a lot of brothers, soldier.” She shrugs lazily. “I didn’t kill yours.”

  “Liar!” I bark. “I was there. I saw—”

  “What, soldier?” She cocks a brow. “What did you see? A sniper taking out your brother and his squad? Your brother and his crew hitting the floor? Eva and Zara crying?”

  All of that. “Yes.”

  “Look,” she’s so cool it’s sorta scary, “I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m not a monster. I am your worst nightmare. But I won’t take credit for kills I didn’t commit.”

  You don’t buy this bullshit, do you? I… “All right, if you didn’t kill them, then who did?” And why did you save me? I almost add.

  She tilts her chin at Deveraux. “Why don’t you ask his daddy?”

  I understand jack. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Enough,” Deveraux barks. “Kill her, and we can all go home.” He eyeballs Tiffany. “I hear she has a hubby waiting.”

  I don’t intend to gamble with Tiffany’s life, but I can’t just shoot Dasha. The girl I got to know? She isn’t a merciless killer. She’s—

  What, Boulder? What is she?

  “Do it,” Viktor urges.

  “I—”

  I what? I was played by her? Led to believe she cared about me when in reality she just wanted to extract information? Because that’s what she did when she showed up at the hotel. She confirmed her suspicion I was there to protect Deveraux. Jesus, I’d have done the same if I were in her shoes. No better way to control your enemy than by sleeping with him, making him care for you.

  The only reason I haven’t pulled that trigger is her denial in the involvement of my brother’s death. It could be another game of hers, but I need to be sure I haven’t hunted the wrong ghost for the past two years. “If you didn’t kill my brother, then who did?”

  She doesn’t take her eyes off mine. “Are you sure you want the truth?” There’s no hostility in her voice. “Maybe it’d be easier if you kept living the lie. Pretend the Russian monster took your beloved brother away from you.”

  “The truth,” I bark. “I need the truth.”

  “The sniper was American,” she says, deadpan.

  “American?” I laugh. “That’s crazy. Why would—”

  “What do you know about Eva and Zara Elbaz?” she questions.

  Not much. Except they were hostages, and we were supposed to rescue them. “Why? What does it matter?”

  “Eva and Zara,” she says. “Were wife and daughter of a high-ranking ISIS member. The mother woke up one day and realized she didn’t want her daughter to grow up like that, so she reached out to my government. Offered to trade intel for freedom and safety.”

  “And?” I don’t see how this explains why an American allegedly killed his own people.

  “Eva’s husband was Sam Elbaz.”

  “Sam Elbaz?” I repeat after her. “I’ve heard that name before.” But where?

  “Of course you have.” Dasha’s gaze darts to Deveraux. Judging by his slightly tensed jaw, he too is familiar with the name. “Sam Elbaz was Bill Deveraux’s former business partner.” She smirks. “You know, before he put his son in charge of all his hotels, clubs, and God knows what else.”

  Shit, she’s right. I recall a documentary about our president and his pre-Oval Office life. He’s a self-made millionaire, made his money by investing in hotels and clubs. The very business his son now manages. Sam Elbaz, I believe, was one of his biggest investors. Then, one sunny day, he disappeared and hasn’t been heard from or seen since.

  Dasha inches closer. “Just imagine what would have happened if Zara told that tale to my government?”

  It could have ruined Deveraux senior’s life. The Russians could have used that sort of intel to blackmail him. Hell, they could have gotten him kicked out of the White House if they leaked the info to the media.

  Eva Elbaz was a liability to our president. She had the power to destroy him. One thing, however, doesn’t make any sense. “Why would he have sent in a SEAL team if he wanted them dead?”

  Dasha, or Natalia, or Shadow—call her what you want—rolls her eyes. “To cover all bases, soldier. That way he was the hero who tried to rescue them. Their deaths didn’t fall back on him because he sent his best men to protect them. No one would ever think he also sent the sniper who was supposed to take Eva, Zara, and the rest of you out.” Her hazel eyes pierce mine. “You didn’t, did you?”

  That’s madness. Insane. Total Bullshit. Or—

  Is it?

  “Money rules, power dictates the outcome.”

  Shadow/Dasha/Natalia

  I always knew it would end this way—him pointing a gun at me, me looking him in the eye, completely at ease. Markus Boulder hates my guts. He blames me for his brother’s death, and though the truth made him question my involvement, he aims his gun at me.

  Just like I anticipated.

  C’mon now. You didn’t think I was getting out of this alive, did you? Would I have walked in here, showing my face, if survival was an option? I think not. Avenging Elena was all that was left for me to do. Her death changed things. I woke up one day and realized the era of Shadow had to come to an end. The world had suffered enough at my hands. It was time the nightmare retired—for good.

  This is me retiring. Like any good artist, I’m going out with fireworks. Bones, Viktor, his men, and Deveraux—they’re all going to hell with me. Except Boulder, I hope. He’s here because I needed him to hear the truth. About Dasha, Elena, Deveraux, and his brother, Luke.

  Deveraux thinks he lured me here under false pretenses, that I had no idea this was a trap. What he doesn’t know is I was the one who emailed Viktor the intel he needed. The email with my name, file, and picture didn’t come from one of his Russian SVR connections. It came from me. Q, always the genius, ha
cked Viktor’s account weeks ago. We waited patiently for the one addressed to the new Russian defense minister. It arrived last night. Q replied with the false file she’d created. Well, false in terms of, it wasn’t officially from the SVR—even the president of Russia doesn’t know my real name. The only two people who did no longer live to tell the tale. The content of the file, however, was legit. My name was Natalia Petrova, once. But that girl, Orphan 22, died when she killed that husky in the sterile white room. Ten’ was born right then and there.

  “Why?” Boulder swallows. Hard. “Why did you…” He shakes his head. “Sleep with me?” He waves the gun. “Don’t tell me. I already know. You used me.”

  In my mind, I answered this question a million times. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. What better way than to control your opponent? I loved to fuck with Deveraux. Damn, you have no idea how jealous he was of you. You looked like you could use a good fuck…I never ran out of excuses. Standing across from him, forced to see the disappointment in his eyes, hinders me from reciting those very reasons.

  Markus Boulder is hurting. He fell for Dasha—hard, irrevocably. And Dasha? She fell for the soldier. When he held her in his arms, when he asked what she wanted—a question she hadn’t heard since she was a little girl who still had a family—she just couldn’t help it. Markus Boulder had become Dasha’s light. For the time being, he chased her shadows away.

  “Tell me,” he demands, never lowering his gun. “Please, just tell me.”

  Dasha would lay her heart bare. She’d assure him he wasn’t a pawn in her game of chess; he was the king she never thought she could collect.

  I’m not Dasha. I’m Shadow. And Shadow doesn’t have a heart. “Payback,” I say, nonchalantly. “You see, William almost died when you disobeyed his order, wrapping your hands around his girl’s ass to fuck her right under his nose.”

  “You played me.”

  “I did.”

  His eyes are like a cruel sandstorm, filled with every emotion there is. Hate, love, hurt, pain—it’s all there, staring back at me. I almost expect him to pull the trigger, but after the storm comes the calm. “Why save me then?”

  I expected this one too. “I owed you.”

  “For what?” he spits back.

  “Remember the suicide bomber in Kabul?” He nods. “I was going to take her out, but her son almost took me out. You shot him before he could shoot me.”

  He gasps for air. “The woman under that burka? That was—”

  “Me. I saved you because I hate to owe anyone.” I shrug. “Now, we’re even.”

  Markus Boulder looks torn. He doesn’t know if he should be proud of himself for saving me, or disgusted for the very same reason. “I…”

  The ghost of a smile plays on my lips. “Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t have if you knew who I was.” I don’t blame him for that. I am a monster, after all.

  He sighs heavily. “Your sister is dead because you saved me.”

  “No.” My gaze darts to Deveraux. “My sister is dead because of him. That’s why he needs to die, soldier.”

  “You know I can’t let you do that.”

  I smile. “Yeah, I know.” His whole life is built on honor and pride for his flag. I never even considered he’d let me kill Deveraux.

  He inches a bit closer. “Let’s stop this madness, D—” He shakes his head. “Natalia.”

  My name on his lips? Weird. Scary…Nice.

  “Please,” he adds.

  “Sorry, soldier.” I tilt my head to the side. “Can’t do. He,” I flash Deveraux a smile, “is going to pay for what he did.”

  “He will,” Markus assures me. “But not like this.”

  I can’t help it. I fucking admire his naivety. Markus Boulder lives in his own little bubble of justice and honor. He believes everyone gets what they deserve, that justice is indeed blind. Men like William Deveraux—the powerful ones with great connections and influential parents—never get what they deserve. At least, not in this life. No one is going to put the U.S. president’s son behind bars for human trafficking. They’ll pretend it never happened. Russians, Americans—they’re all the same. Money rules, power dictates the outcome.

  “Hey,” he urges. “Look at me.” I do. “Let me take you in. Let me—”

  “I’m sorry, soldier.” No one is walking out of here alive.

  “Enough.” Viktor stands behind Markus, pressing his pistol against soldier’s temple. “Kill her, or I will kill you.”

  Small talk is over. The party is just getting started.

  In the blink of an eye, I retrieve the small Walther PPK from my waistband, aiming it at Boulder. Here we are, aiming at each other, circled by Viktor’s guys pointing their machine guns at us.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” He sounds desperate.

  “Kill her,” Viktor barks.

  Our eyes lock. Markus knows he has no choice but to shoot me. One of us will drop. One of us will die.

  “Please.” He tries again. “Don’t make me do this.”

  I laugh. “Why not? You’ve been dreaming of this for years.” I shrug. “Here’s your chance. Let’s see which one of us is quicker.”

  Sweat curves down his forehead. “I…” He lowers his gun. “I can’t.”

  What the hell is he doing? Viktor will kill him.

  In a second or so, Boulder’s brain tissue will sprinkle the walls.

  Why do you care?

  I don’t.

  “Traitor,” Viktor barks. Then—

  BANG.

  Blood spills.

  Brain tissue colors the floor.

  Viktor drops dead.

  I shot him. I fucking shot him.

  Why?

  Boulder is haunted by the same question. He stares at me, eyes wide open, jaw unhinged. It feels like forever. But it’s just a split second. Then Viktor’s men realize what just happened and open fire.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG…

  I reach Boulder in time to throw him on the ground with me. Two guys move in on us. I take down one. Boulder puts a bullet in the second.

  Shit, this isn’t how this was supposed to go down.

  Crawling across the floor, we make it behind one of the metal containers. “You saved me. Again,” he whispers. “Why? Why not kill me when you freed the merchandise? Why save me now? We’re even, remember?”

  I reload my gun, ignoring the odd sensation in my chest. Something I haven’t felt for a very long time—fear. Fear he might see through my charade. Fear of Dasha taking control over Shadow.

  Focus, Shadow!

  They move in on us. I empty my magazine, taking out two.

  “Dasha?” Boulder cups my elbow. “Why—”

  “Get the hell out of here,” I yell at him.

  He shakes his head. “You saved me.”

  “I’m a monster,” I bark. “I don’t save people. I kill them.”

  “You saved me,” he repeats.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG…

  They’re too close. I aim at the only source of light and take it out. Darkness floods the room. Viktor’s men curse. They’re aware I just leveled the playing field. The shadows are where I live.

  I face Boulder. “Get out before it’s too late.”

  I don’t wait for his reply. I get on my feet, move through the darkness, and kill as many of those motherfuckers as I can.

  “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Markus

  Dasha is Shadow. Shadow saved me three times. Why? She’s a monster, right? A goddamn killer who could have let Viktor kill me. It would have been the smart thing to do. She could have ended her bloody rampage, taking out the remaining names on her list.

  She didn’t.

  Dasha risked her plan for me. Then she begged me to get out of here. Because—

  She wants me to survive?

  I could expose her identity. Why the fuck would she take a risk like that? Why—

  Because she never planned to leave this building alive.

&nb
sp; It’s a fucking suicide mission.

  Gunshots ring through the air. I look over the container, but it’s too dark. I don’t see shit. Somewhere in the midst of the flying bullets is Tiffany. Shit, she could already be dead for all I know.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG…

  It goes on forever. Then, all of a sudden, it’s quiet.

  My heart thunders in my ears. Is she dead? Did they kill her? Why is it so fucking quiet? My stomach cramps, my chest aches like a bitch. What if she really is dead?

  “Come on out, Will.” Dasha’s voice roars through the blackness. “You know you can’t hide from me.”

  Cold steel connects with the back of my head. “Get up,” Deveraux whispers. “Slowly.”

  “Are you such a coward?” Dasha aka Shadow aka Natalia teases him.

  Deveraux snakes his arm around my throat. “I knew she liked you,” he whispers in my ear. “I fucked her, but she only had eyes for you, Boulder.” He chuckles. “Damn shame the two of you won’t get a happily ever after, don’t you think?”

  Lights come on. The floor is covered with blood and the corpses of Viktor’s men. Damn, that woman is the best. Even I couldn’t have taken them all out, in the dark, coming out of it without a scratch.

  Dasha’s gaze lands on me, but she speaks to Deveraux. “Really, Will?” She frowns. “A human shield? You think I mind killing him?”

  “I know you do,” Deveraux spits back, pressing the gun harder against the back of my head. “Your obsession with Boulder runs deeper than you care to admit. Or do you think I didn’t see the way you looked at him?”

  Dasha’s expression is blank. “I might like him, but that won’t stop me from killing him to get to you. Emotions are a weakness I have long overcome.” She’s dead serious; the fiery look in her eyes tells me so.

  Shadow gave me a chance to get out of here in one piece. But she won’t stray from her plan for me. She will kill Deveraux, even if I’m collateral damage.

  Deveraux knew that already, though. He was only trying to buy Bones some time. Bones, the dude with the sledgehammer, comes at Dasha now.

  “Behind you,” I warn her, not really sure why. Probably because I can’t stand that asshole, and he deserves a lesson from the best. No, it has nothing to do with the butterflies in my stomach, okay?