I raise the axe and bring it down on the lock.
It breaks, and the woman inside stumbles out, her legs weak, her eyes wide with confusion.
I move to the next cell and bring the axe down again and another padlock falls. I keep moving, and as I do, my vision goes red.
This is where she was.
Elena was here. In one of these cells, terrified and alone like these women.
More women stumble out, and I can tell they're drugged or something. Once I finish the last cage, I turn to them.
"Run," I say in English. "Get out. Up the stairs. Run."
Some of them understand, and the ones that don't get the message, and they all start moving, stumbling toward the door, clinging to each other for support.
The rage burns through me like gasoline on fire now, as this was probably what Elena hoped for when she was locked down here.
I throw the axe to the ground, and the women are fleeing up the stairs now, a chaotic stream of broken, drugged bodies desperate for freedom.
I follow them, breathing hard, my hands shaking with adrenaline and fury.
I should burn this place to the fucking ground.
I take the stairs back up as the girls start spilling out into the hallway up ahead, running in every direction, my focus narrowing to a single point.
I race down the red velvet hallway, my pulse pounding in my ears. I don't care about cover anymore. I don't care about Victor's go slow plan. I don't care about anything except finding Maxim Volkov and killing him.
I'm done playing games. I'm doing this my way. I am going to tear this place apart room by room if I have to and find that son of a bitch.
As I march back down the main hallway, passing the same oak doors I tried earlier, I hear a man's voice from behind one of thedoors. He's yelling in an angry tone. Maybe one of the freed girls ran into his room. Serves him right.
I stop and listen for a moment and then, a woman's voice answers.
It's soft and lined with fear. "I will be good. I promise. I'm sorry. I'll get dressed right now. Please. I'm sorry."
My body jolts in a way I've never felt before. It feels instantly weak and tingles all over, and I feel as if time has stopped.
"I'll get dressed right now," the woman continues, "please. I'm sorry."
I know that voice like I know my own heartbeat.
It's the voice from my Bra?ov courtyard. From running through the streets of Bucharest. From late night conversations and stolen kisses and promises we made when we were too young to understand how fucked the world could be. It's my light and my life.
Elena.
I walk up to the heavy oak door and slam my fist against it. Once, twice, three times.
"Go away!" a man yells from inside.
Not a fucking chance.
I hit the door again, harder.
"I said go the fuck away!"
He's yelling in another language now, but I don't care what he's saying.
I back up and kick the door right near the locking mechanism.