06. INTERFERENCE — TARGET ENEMY: GUSTAVIO LACHOWSKI

COVINA, WASHINGTON

0800 HOURS

CALIFORNIA STATE BANK

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It was so sudden that I barely even had time to react. With a snap of his fingers, it was as if the goons at Lachowski's sides jumped from their frozen spots. The two started for my direction in a flurry of movements so stealthily that all I could do was sit there pathetically and watch with widened eyes as they reached out two burly pairs of arms to grab me.

Yet before I could feel the pressure of hands enclosing around my body, there was a rough pulling of my wrist, and soon as I was being propelled to the side just as the two goons landed in the spot I had been in moments ago.

"Oh, my God." I gasped out, my brain still unable to process what had happened. It seemed to be stuck in its perpetual state of slow motion, even though everything around me was happening in real time.

"Grab Albert's wrist and when I tell you to hold your breath, you do it with no questions asked. Understood?" Ronan rushed out easily, his eyes never leaving the dazed goons who were slowly picking themselves off the ground.

"I— What?" I blubbered. Right now, the only thoughts I could muster were what the hell and this badass just saved me from being trampled on.

"I said no questions." Ronan released his hold on my wrist and started to reach for something hidden in his boot. Swallowing, I dug the yellow box in my hands deep into the depths of my pockets, eyeing the scene warily. A few meters away, Lachowski's henchmen were already on their feet, sneers plastered onto their faces.

"Ronan." I warned, scooting as far back as I could before my back hit the wall with an unsatisfying thump. Looking around panicked, I located Albert's hand, clutching it tightly when I realized the old man was just as terrified as I was. He squeezed back weakly; I could hear small wheezes emanating from his ragged chest.

"Hold your breath." Ronan smirked, his teeth sharp and dangerous —much like he was. Albert and I did as we were told, and with a swing of the wrist, a small grey capsule was launched in the enemy's direction. It rolled around with no steady path, until it slowed and came to a standstill right at Lachowski's feet.

The Russian looked down at the cylinder, his own psychotic grin forming. Glancing back in our direction, he shook his head as if he were amused. "You naughty boy."

And then the room exploded.

Well, it wasn't as dramatic as I made it out to be. There were no sparks that sizzled as it collided with the oxygen in the air. No great explosion filled with fire that licked the ceilings of the tiny room, glistening with angry hues of orange and red. There was barely even noise except for the faint sizzle of gas being released, the grey smoke crawling stealthily past the floors and creeping upwards towards the ceiling. It engulfed the goons, who began to gag and sputter from the chemicals of the gas. Lachowski remained indifferent. And as the musky fog began to curl around the material of his shirt, quickly making its way to his head, he let out a sardonic chuckle that sent shivers down my spine.

Eyes watering, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my hand, trying to keep in the precious oxygen my lungs needed while it desperately tried to escape. The movement made the handcuffs connecting me to Ronan jingle, instantaneously telling him where I was.

I felt his hand enclose around my waist —soft but urgent— and I tightened my own grip around Albert's before the boy discreetly pulled us out of the room. He motioned for us to continue holding our breaths until we made it to the end of the corridor. The white-washed walls of the basement level mixed with the silver gleam of the vaults had my head swimming, eyes still watering from the smoke gas.

Inhaling deeply, I collapsed to the ground and sucked in the air, looking very well like a fish out of water. Ronan looked impatient and annoyed by my theatrics, squatting by my side as the chain pulled him down with me. "Come on," he grunted, pulling me back to my feet. "We don't have much time."

"Who the hell are you?" I yelled, roughly slapping his hands away.

He gave me a pointed look and deadpanned, "Ronan."

"Not your name, jackass," I said shakily, taking a step back. "Who do you work for? Are you an undercover cop?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Ronan answered ambiguously, pulling on the handcuffs so that I was drawn to him. The momentum of his harsh tug sent my tiny body reeling into his, where I fell face-first into his chest. Blushing, I tried not to think of the fact that his abs were pressed against my face as I pushed him away. "Look, I love the friendly conversation but if we don't get a move on, then I hate to it put it bluntly but we're going to die."

I opened my mouth indignantly, unwilling to let the conversation slide that easily. A scowl formed on my face as Ronan's expression slid into a slightly irritated one.

"Children!" Lachowski's voice sang at the end of the corridor. Our heads whipped to the source, where the Russian's figure was distorted in the fog, until he managed to penetrate it and escape the smoky tendrils. His eyes red but cynically amused, Lachowski's lips curved into a menacing grin as he caught sight of us.

I felt myself pale, and when I glanced back at Ronan he looked smug and raised an eyebrow. "Okay," I said hoarsely. "Okay, we should probably run."

"Albert." Ronan called to the old man, but the poor soul was too exhausted and weak. He sat against the wall, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement seen. Eyes closed, he weakly waved for us to go on without him. Ronan's eyes narrowed, switching from Lachowski and his goons making their way down the hallway and then back to the banker. Shaking his head and uttering a few curses, Ronan bent down and pulled Albert to his feet, hoisting the elder man onto his back and turning to me. "Let's go."

"You're going to carry him?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, I'm not going to leave him here." Ronan replied with finality and made a dash down the corridor without another sense of my input. The movement had me propelling after him. There was a sharp pain in my wrist as the chain pulled it roughly and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Together, we kept running in silence, veering in directions as forks in the corridors passed. Albert gave directions to the main floor, his voice frail sounding and jerky as Ronan's steps made the older man bounce slightly. Albert had his head against Ronan's back; his strength was fading fast.

It seemed endless —everywhere was white, the hallways long and dreary. It felt like we were in a maze more so than a bank. By the time we reached the stairwell, Ronan and I were out of breath. He paused in his stride, taking in how many floors it would take to reach the main level while I gulped in large quantities of oxygen.

"Is there any chance we could use the elevator?" I asked meekly. I caught sight of my reflection in the metal railings of the stairs, wincing at how frizzy my blonde hair seemed to be, how flushed and pink my cheeks were.

Ronan adjusted Albert's weight on his back —the poor man couldn't take it and had passed out moments ago— and tested his strength on the first few steps. Glancing over his shoulder, his dark eyes seemed to penetrate my inner thoughts and he said, "Knowing Lachowski, he planned everything out before we got here."

Ronan shifted his gaze upwards, glancing at the endless stream of stairs, an analyzing gleam in his eyes. "Judging by the fact that security hasn't caught onto his act yet, he must have planted some of his goons as the guards. None have chased us down, so those two henchmen with Lachowski are the possibly only ones down in the vault. As soon as we hit the first level, we'll probably be attacked by a few of them. If we manage to get outside, there could be at least three guarding the perimeter. Lachowski likes to keep his numbers small to not attract attention so we can use that to our advantage and take them out."

Ronan closed his eyes to think more clearly, mapping out the building's blueprints in his mind. "Probably disconnected the security cameras too," He pointed to a security camera in the corner of the room. "It's off." Opening his eyes, he answered my question. "If we got onto the elevator, he could easily trap us in there and gain advantage. We need to make it to the main level and alert everyone before they catch up to us in about two minutes and thirty-two seconds."

I stared at him in amazement, digesting all the information he managed to spurt out. The fact that he calculated and analyzed Lachowski's entire game plan in under a minute had me stunned. "Two minutes and thirty-two seconds?" I echoed softly.

He hummed, "More like twenty eight at this point. Let's get going." Without a complaint, he headed up the infinite staircase and I could do nothing but follow silently and wishing that I worked out more.

"How were you able to pull all that info out of just seeing Lachowski?" I gasped out, his earlier actions still on my mind. We had managed to scape one floor level, and taking Ronan's hunches into consideration, decided to continue up at least two more floors.

"I've studied him before: his actions, his thinking style," Ronan replied. I was jealous of how calm and steady his voice seemed to be while mine was weak and hoarse from the physical activity. "I just tried to think like a psychopath. It's not that hard."

As we climbed the last step onto the platform in between floors one and two, I skidded to a stop and jerked Ronan with me. His eyes flashed as he whirled around to meet me. "We don't have time—"

"Just tell me who you are." I demanded. It was a stupid decision; primarily because we were on the run, and Ronan had gone from my kidnapper to my savior in less than a day. If I had any chances of surviving this, he was my only bet. Yet, my curiosity was something that over rid any incoherent thought. It was always my fatal flaw in any situation. Mom used to tell me I got the trait from my father.

Before Ronan could have at least a second to respond to my demand, a loud crash from below us broke the tense silence. I almost screamed and stupidly gave out our location but Ronan was quick to the point and covered my mouth with his palm. My scream muffled against his hand and I shrunk back into his arms. He held me close, not in a protective way but to keep me from being seen past the railings.

Albert sat with his back against the wall, eyes shut tight as he breathed slowly. The strain of the situation was too much for his frail age; I was worried that if we didn't get him to safety soon, he would die along with us.

"Ronan, Gwen." Lachowski's voice sardonically sang out in a perfectly pitched octave. The eerie song bounced off the walls of the stairwell, sounding much louder than they were meant to be.

"To be honest," the Russian continued; the thud of his heels against the floor clacked and added to the creepy benefactor of the low lights and emptiness of the room. "This is the most fun I've had on a mission in ages. Which is why I will so kind as to give you both a bit of fair warning. I want to play a game." I let out a little whimper and Ronan pulled me closer to him.

"My men and I are going to attack you," said Lachowski bluntly, merriment in his tone. "There's a bomb positioned somewhere in this building. As soon as I press this button on my remote, your objective is to escape my grasp while simultaneously find a way to uncover the bomb and diffuse it before hundreds of lives —including yours— perish on this fine day. Isn't it exciting?" he cackled, a throaty laugh that made me wince.

"I'll be even kinder and start a countdown." Lachowski continued; the sound of his footsteps faltered as he came to standstill. "In five, four, three, two—"

The steel door of the second floor burst open, revealing two more burly men with crooked smirks and knives in their hands. Some sadistic part of me was relieved that at least they were daggers rather than guns, but either weapon possessed the power to utterly annihilate me. Unable to sit there silently, I found myself finally letting out the scream I had been holding in since the first attack, pushing Ronan away in the process as I scrambled to my feet and went with my instincts to run.

The obvious choice was to run in the opposite direction. I blindly pulled Ronan along with me, desperate for an escape. My feet hitting against the steps as I made my way back to the first floor platform, I was blocked at the door by Lachowski himself, whose eyes held a mischievous smirk as he cocked his head to the side and said, "I found you."

The only thing that kept me from breaking down in that very moment was Ronan's presence behind me. With the handcuffs rattling as he pulled me behind him, he greeted his enemy with a smirk so cold that I found myself shivering.

"Ronan, Ronan, Ronan," Lachowski tsked, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "It's a miracle you stand in front of me today, don't you think?"

"Please, call me Jesus." Ronan replied sarcastically. His voice held a dangerous tone underneath the sarcasm; something in the depth of his obsidian eyes flashed at Lachowski's question. He took a step back, climbing up the stairs slowly with me in tow. Lachowski didn't seem to notice as he tilted his head back to bark out a laugh.

"The thing about you and the Son of God," Lachowski narrowed his eyes. "Is that both are undeniably fantastic at escaping. See now," the man began to pace, rubbing at his chin in contemplation. "Jesus had one thing that you don't. And that my dear, is virtue. Unmistakably, he sacrificed himself for others, yes? His life for thousands. Yet, you sacrifice everyone else's lives for your own. How selfish."

"Ronan, don't listen to him." I warned, as the boy beside me bristled and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He was trying to maintain his composure but it was slipping with each passing second.

Lachowski slipped his attention to me. "My, my, and you've already begun to cloud this poor girl's intentions as well. Gwen, sweetie, you're a good girl. What are you doing with a dangerous villain such as him?"

The question had me reeling. I never found out about Ronan's true intentions. I didn't even know if he was the good guy or the bad; what if Lachowski was the protagonist after all? To answer his question, I just lifted my hand to reveal the cuffs attached to both of us, frowning in confusion.

"Kinky." Lachowski laughed once more. The sound was like nails scraping against a chalkboard. He fixed his humorous expression towards myself. "Gwen, come with us. Your father needs you." The mere mention of my father twice in one day made me melt. I was torn; on one hand, I had Lachowski, who seemed to know about me and my father. Though he was creepy, he could have good intentions. On the other hand, I had Ronan, who threatened me into driving him, pulled a gun on me, and handcuffed my wrist to his own.

I had every right to go side with Lachowski, but a feeling in my gut had me hesitating. If anything, I knew to trust my instinct. After always being on the lookout and on the run with Mom, I learned a thing or two about trusting your own heart.

And something told me Ronan was the right way to go.

Lachowski, patient as ever, raised a palm —the universal gesture for stop. I glanced behind me, only to find the two goons from the floor above standing on the midway platform, knives unsheathed and ready to strike. We were trapped, utterly and exceptionally trapped.

Ronan was still bristling at my side, a muscle in his jaw ticking. I could vaguely feel his need to punch into flesh, to release his anger all at once.

"Well?" Lachowski raised an eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, I began to descend down the steps, the sound echoing through the stairwell much like Lachowski's had done before. Ronan roughly pulled me to a stop, whispering fiercely in my ear, "What the hell are you doing? Are you seriously just going to go with him? After I just fucking saved you from him?"

I nodded, much only for Lachowski's sake. As my hair made a curtain protecting my face from the enemy's sight, I mouthed quickly to the boy in front of me: As soon as we get in reach, incapacitate him.

Ronan imperceptibly gave a nod, though his expression looked defeated and angered. I flipped my hair, curling my lips downward in an apologetic look. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lachowski grin in victory. Oh, the poor sucker.

As I dragged Ronan down the remaining steps, Lachowski's grin widened. "Oh, yes, and you've brought me a gift!" Fighting the urge to scoff, I strode over to where he stood. Just as he began to wind an arm around my shoulder triumphantly, Ronan lashed out as quick as lightning, striking a tendon in Lachowski's arm and causing it to fall limply at his side. Lachowski let out a grunt at his arm, now useless at his side, as Ronan quickly got into a fighting stance.

Cracking a dangerous smile, Lachowski merely shook his head. "I'm afraid you've made the wrong decision, Gwen. Unfortunately, we need you alive. But nothing was said about your friend here." He glanced behind him, nodding to his goons. "Take them out."

Instantly, the men on either side of us darted into action. I only had enough time to let out a small gasp before Ronan jumped into action, grabbing my shoulders and turning me, running forward to propel both his legs into the stomach of one of the goons. The male —Hispanic looking, eyes as fierce as the tattoos on his knuckles, a scar lining from his cheekbone to his eyebrow— let out a grunt, falling back and clutching his injured side.

The other henchman —pale skinned, freckles darting across his cheeks, sunglasses although we were indoors— gritted his teeth and aimed a swift punch towards Ronan's back, which was still turned in the direction of the other man. It impacted Ronan's shoulder, causing him to yell and recoil.

"Ronan!" I screamed. Without warning, I lurched forward but the pale-skinned man was already spinning towards me with a smug look, reaching his hands out to grab me. I might have possibly let out a girlish shriek, squeezing my eyes shut and kicking out my right leg. There was another grunt and I opened one eye to see the man falling to his knees, grabbing at his crotch in pain.

Ronan had gotten back to his feet, circling his shoulder with a pained expression. Upon seeing the damage I managed to inflict, he rolled his eyes. "Really?"

"I panicked!" I retorted, my voice a few octaves higher than usual. Muttering something under his breath, Ronan nodded for me to follow as we darted past the incapacitated guards to the staircase. Lachowski's eyes never strayed; he held his limp arm with a sardonic expression. He didn't attempt to fight, which I found both relieving and frightening.

Upon taking the first steps on the stairs, the other two guards blocked our path, sneers on their lips. Without any warning, Ronan scooped me up, his hands gentle but firm on my waist.

"Hey!" I protested, squirming.

"Hold still and tense your legs." Ronan ordered through gritted teeth. As one goon came barreling down the stairs, I didn't bother to argue and did as Ronan said. When the henchman came close, Ronan spun me around, using my own body mass to attack the enemy. I felt bones crack as my converse hit bone; the spinning sensation mixed with that fact almost made me hurl. Almost.

Letting me down, the guy fell to the ground, rolling down the staircase and leaving blood stains on the floor. Ronan sidestepped as the goon slid past, kicking him roughly for good measure. One final enemy lay in our path; Ronan grabbed my hand and we made our way up just as the goon —Italian, looked like a mobster, gold front teeth— made his way down.

We collided in the middle; I ducked as the goon swung, missing my head by a good few inches. Ronan used that time to elbow him in the jaw, making the goon's head snap to the side. The man faltered, swaying uneasily from the hit. I steadied myself and kicked him in the shin, and the Italian came rolling down the steps to join his comrade.

"Nice." Ronan allowed a small compliment, but it was enough to have me grinning from the adrenaline. Something about fighting felt almost... right, but I couldn't put a finger on why.

As we made our way up the rest if the stairs to where Albert still lay unconscious, Lachowski's voice streamed through the stairwell. "Don't think you've won just yet," he laughed from below. "There's still fifteen minutes left in the game."

Ronan scooped Albert onto his back once more and with a nod in my direction, we headed up the next two flights of stairs.

Bursting through the doors, Ronan looked around before spotting a door that read 'staff only.' He kicked the door open, surprising the few employees inside who seemed to be on their coffee breaks. A woman to the right in a pin-striped business suit screamed, while another man darted for the phone.

"Don't," a weak voice stopped them. Albert blinked his eyes open, gasping slightly. "They're not the bad guys. They saved my life." Ronan nodded, setting Albert down in one of the many chairs surrounding the table inside.

"He's right," Ronan clarified. "Listen, we don't have much time. I need you guys to follow my orders now." His voice dripped with confidence and calmness. The voice of a leader. "A bomb is set to diffuse in less than fifteen minutes. I want you all to evacuate this entire building, and someone call 911. Make sure everyone gets out safe, hurry!" Panicked, the people in the room scrambled to fulfill Ronan's orders, scattering out of the room like flies. An employee in the back helped Albert to his feet so that they could exit.

As he passed, Albert sent us a grateful look and murmured genuinely, "Thank you." Then he was gone.

"Alright, let's go." Ronan spoke quickly, turning to follow the last few people out of the room. I scampered after him, feeling the sweat drip from my forehead. This was the most panic and adrenaline I've had at once in my entire life. Swallowing a dry lump, the two of us jogged down the corridor, Ronan occasionally darting into rooms to yell at people to evacuate.

We passed by several wall clocks in the halls, with each precious second being scooped up by the minute hand.

Ronan kept muttering to himself. I strained to hear, listening intently. "...not on the roof. Can't be. Boiler room? No. Damn it, where?!" he growled.

With each step, Ronan kept growing even more stressed, thinking of ludicrous areas like the bathroom on the fifth level, or the cupboard under the stairs. Well, not so much the last one, but I could tell he was thinking too hard. From what I gathered about Lachowski, the man liked theatrics. He was cynical and strange, like something was off-putting about him. Wouldn't he hide it where we least expect it? To gauge a reaction from us?

I gasped, pulling Ronan to a stop. He looked agitated, nearly hissing out his words, "Look, now is not the time for background checks, Gwen. People's lives are at stake. Our lives are at stake. Damn it, I'll tell you everything once we make it out of here alive."

"No, just shut up and listen!" I yelled back, running a hand through my hair in a frenzy. "I know where the bomb is. It's in the most obvious place you could think of. Just relax and think about it."

It took a few seconds but the thought eventually crossed his mind; I could tell by the way he visibly relaxed by a fraction of an inch, his eyes widening by a centimeter. I nodded to him, a small reassuring smile on my lips.

"My dad's vault."

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I really hope I did the action scenes justice; this chapter took a lot out of me. If you enjoyed it, drop me a comment below and let me know what you think. I always love hearing feedback from you all. x Also, new cover on the side made by yours truly. ;) Comments?

Picture on the side is the actor who plays Ronan. Just imagine him with black hair, haha. c:

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-Isabelle