6

“Calm down,” a voice whispered insinuatingly from under the plastic mask on his face. - No need for unnecessary movements and everything will be okay.

“Or not,” added his companion, pointing his machine gun at Christina, who was reaching, as she thought, imperceptibly, towards the alarm button.

Cristina whimpered and, raising her hands, backed against the wall behind the counter.

- That's smart! - approved the second. - You, - he turned to the guard, - come to her. Just drop your toy.

The guard very slowly pulled out a pistol and, throwing it on the floor, walked over to Christina and also raised his hands.

- Well, and you, beauty, - the muzzle rested on my chest, - why are you frozen? - After the guard, I stood closest to the shooters, as if covering the courier with me. - Stomp to the wall.

His stomach twisted into knots, blood throbbing wildly in his temples, his nose tickled by the smell of young werewolf gunslingers venturing into the store.

With solid legs, I took a step to the right, another step, and another, until I pressed against the wall with mirrors that reflected Arthur white as chalk.

- Now you're handsome. Come to her. - Arthur helplessly moved to me, and we both found ourselves opposite Christina and the guard.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, not overwhelmed by fear, I felt contempt for Arthur. His coolness was blown away, and the courage, which was only enough to move, or even kill, the old father, hid so deep that he could not even press the second panic button, which was right next to him under the counter with several red diamonds lying on it. , which the courier did not have time to put in a bag.

- So what's next? the courier asked in an absolutely calm voice.

His jacket was barely perceptibly puffed up. The body beneath him was preparing to transform.

The first shooter pointed the barrel at him.

"Drop the pouch on the floor and push it toward me," he said deliberately.

- Puppy, - the courier chuckled, - you can't even imagine who you hit.

"Drop the pouch on the floor and push it toward me," the gunslinger repeated, holding the weapon firmly and confidently.

Cursing his lips, the courier released the pouch. As if in slow motion, he flew down under the gazes fixed on him.

Holding my breath, I saw from the corner of my eye how the hair on the back of the courier's head stood up, how the fabric of the jacket and shirt underneath began to crack on the back.

He was not going to give away his master's diamonds, but was going to cut the throats of those who dared even think that they could appropriate someone else's. But the worst thing was that the gunners didn't expect him to hand over the diamonds, and as soon as the pouch touched the floor, the submachine guns, which had been taken off their fuses in advance, burst into silver fire.

I covered my head with my hands and fell to my knees. The ringing of glass and shells, the cry of Christina, the roar of Arthur and the courier - everything mixed into a deafening cacophony.

The shop windows scattered and sparklingly poured splinters and diamonds. The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood, sweat and fear.

How long this went on, I did not know. At some point, I simply realized that the shots had died down, and the inarticulate groans of Christina and the wounded courier, who had not completely turned into a wolf, mixed with my ragged breathing, were the only sounds.

Somewhere in the distance, police sirens were already howling. Arthur was gone. The guard tried in vain to calm Christina, and I crawled up to the still alive courier.

The ability to think adequately returned to me, and I quickly figured out what I had to do.

There was no bag of diamonds next to the courier. There was blood left in the place where Arthur was with me. If the silver bullet doesn't kill him, he'll be out of town before news of it reaches the one whose diamonds have been stolen.

In any case, whether he dies or still does not have time to dump, they will ask us in full and not only Angelov’s wolfs, but also the cops. Especially if they find a wounded or even dead werewolf in the store.

- I'll kill you bitch! he growled as I leaned over him and grabbed my throat with his hand.

He couldn't hold on for long. Four silver bullets entered his body in different places and burned him from the inside, causing hellish pain. He grimaced, and I removed his weakened paw from me.

"I'll get the bullets out," I said, looking back at the door. The sirens were getting closer. - Take the remaining stones and leave. Tell your master that we have nothing to do with it, - I added, not really hoping that this would make any impression.

The courier was young and hardly had any weight in Angelov's entourage, but the attempt, as they say, is not torture.

Without waiting for an answer, I dipped my finger into the first bullet hole. It would seem that they were firing from machine guns, and the holes were as if fired from a large-caliber rifle, if not from a cannon.

Suppressing a fit of nausea, I easily hooked a bullet with my fingernail and pulled it out, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. The wolf gave a groan of relief, and I crawled to the counter, where the diamonds remained.

Shards of glass cut into my knees and arms, staining everything I touched with blood.

"They're around here somewhere," I muttered chokingly, sorting through the pieces.

- Arms! Raise your hands!

I shuddered and turned around, involuntarily raising my hands up. There was no courier, and the cops entered the store with pistols in their hands.

The guard began to say something to them, and they did not immediately, but removed their weapons. We were rudely pushed out into the street, where we waited for an hour for our testimony to be taken.

Kristina managed to calm down, and due to the fact that we were not separated to testify due to the uproar, the story of the raid on the store came out more or less coherent. We even managed to sidestep the subject of the location of the owner, i.e. Arthur.

However, for the most part, it was the merit of Christina, who connected tears and sobs in time, moreover, completely conscious and thought out to the smallest detail, including her son, who almost remained an orphan.

The investigator irritably put a blot on the protocol and measured it with a displeased look.

- Well, all right, - he muttered, nodding to one of the operas who called him. - Rest a little. Let's write down your contact details, and go home.

The investigator went to the store. Cristina looked at him and turned to us.

“We must get out of the city,” she said in a whisper, removing the hysteria from her face. - There are two different blood stains in the store, the cops will also find the remaining diamonds, and who knows what else will be found in Arthur's office.

- She gone crazy?! - Ivan, the security guard, twitched, and ran a nervous glance at the cops pacing back and forth. “They will drop all the dogs on us and put them on the wanted list!”

“Even if we honestly confess to everything that happened in the store, we will be accused of complicity,” objected Christina. - I don't want to go to jail. I have a child. Who will take care of him?

“And we won’t live to see the trial,” I said, furtively looking at Yegor, who was showing his certificate at the yellow tape, which cordoned off the territory near the store. - Angelov will skin us first. Christina nodded in agreement. - Diamonds of lemons for ten greens pulled, no less. That kind of money is not thrown around.

Ivan rubbed the bridge of his nose, weighing all the pros and cons to himself, but it was already clear what he was leaning towards: it was better to try his luck by running away than to answer for Arthur's greed and cowardice with his head.

Kristina whispered something else to him, but I did not listen, focusing on Yegor, who had spoken with one of the cops who had arrived at the scene and was walking in our direction.

"Let's go," he said to me. Kristina and Ivan fell silent and looked incredulously from under their brows.

His knees and fingers, torn by shrapnel, were raw to the point of nausea. My head was spinning, but Yegor's presence acted like a medicine, and I became very calm, despite the anxious expression on his face and the heavy, purely cop look.

I put on my shoes and obediently stood up from Ivan's jacket, which had been spread out on the ground, and which had been given to Christina and me.

We retreated to the railing. I cringed and hugged myself. It was cold in one blouse, and the store has not yet allowed me to take even outerwear.

- How are you? - Yegor asked, peering into my face, stained with blood, like everything else on me.

“It used to be better,” I answered hoarsely, not paying attention to how his voice sounded: kind of soft, but at the same time somehow indifferent and accusatory. "It's good that you're here," I sighed and snuggled up to him.

His jacket was unbuttoned, and I wrapped myself around his torso, absorbing his scent and warmth with pleasure. I don't care how he got here, I don't care if they see us, I don't care about anything at all.

Not under such circumstances, I planned to talk with him about feelings and about our, as I hoped, joint future, but, on the other hand, what's the difference? You need to live now, and not wait for some favorable conditions.

"I love you," I whispered. - Let's go. I found a job in a nearby...

- Kira, do you know whose diamonds you found in the store? he asked as if he didn't hear what I said. Who owns the blood?

I shuddered inwardly, but remained silent. It was only a matter of time before they found the diamonds.

Egor pushed me aside and looked into my eyes: thoughtfully, professionally, impartially.

Pain and resentment pierced my heart, and I defiantly answered his gaze.

- Kira, don't be silent! - There was a hardness in his voice. - What did you get from the store? Was it your brother?

- Not! I also answered harshly through teeth chattering from the cold.

- Don't lie to me, Kira! Yegor's gaze became even heavier. - Diamonds could only belong to Angelov, and only such a moron as Sasha could ...

Don't you dare call him that! I hissed. - He wouldn't...

- Come to your senses, Kira! he interrupted irritably, furrowing his brows. - He or another moron, you're in trouble! Fully stuck! Your boss has already been put on the wanted list. What do you think he will sing if they find him? It doesn't matter who: we or Angelov's wolfhounds. He will blame everything on you. - Yegor nodded at Kristina and Vanya, signing something for the investigator. - You told me who your father was. And even if your brother did not talk about it on every corner, which I personally doubt, Angelov will find out and will not believe in his life that the children of his predecessor are out of business. Can you imagine what they will do to you? What will they do to you ?

- I don't know... - I breathed tiredly, closing my eyes so as not to see him. If he had not held my hands, I would have closed my ears too, so as not to hear the cold steel in his voice.

- What you do not know?

- I don't know if it was him. They were wearing masks and their voices were muffled.

- You are deceiving yourself, Kira, - Yegor shook his head. - Perhaps, I was mistaken, thinking that he drowns you. No, Kira, you're drowning yourself. Herself.

I opened my eyes, tingling with tears, but I did not know what to answer him. He was right in a way, and he didn't know yet that I was having an affair with Arthur. What would he say then? How would he look at me, if even now he was looking at me as a fallen woman?

- Tomorrow you will have to appear at the prosecutor's office and testify again. - The steel in his voice was replaced by fatigue. - Stay until morning. I'll see what i can do. - I didn't answer. Kira, can you hear me? Yegor gently stroked my cheek, prompting me to look at him. "Hold on until the morning," he repeated, caressing with his eyes and again loving with his voice. - I love you, Kira, and I will pull you out. Promise.