Blood Diamonds Tallinn Chapter 4

Shattered Ice

The room exploded.

One second Emma was crouched by the door, trembling, the diamonds still glinting on the table like cursed stars. The next, Liina’s voice cut through the stunned silence. “Miko, get her—back door, now!” Her tone was sharp, no trace of the laughing sister from minutes ago.

Miko didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Emma’s arm, yanking her up. Her legs wobbled, vision swimming. The diamonds, the vodka, the warmth of the stove—it all blurred into a sickening smear. Miko dragged her toward the back of the flat, where a narrow corridor led to a smaller door, half‑hidden behind a stack of old crates. “Come, come,” he muttered in broken English, eyes wide with something that wasn’t just fear—urgency, maybe even guilt.​

Emma stumbled after him, her mind screaming that she should stay, should try to stop whatever was coming, but her body obeyed the pull of his hand. The front of the flat felt miles away, yet every sound was magnified: Liina’s quick footsteps, Joonas muttering something in Estonian, Karl’s heavy breathing. The back door was wooden, cheap, the lock rusted. Miko fumbled with the bolt. “Go out, run,” he hissed. “I follow.”​

Emma’s fingers brushed the cold metal handle. She turned her head once, instinct pulling her toward the living room. That was when the world shattered.

The front door exploded inward with a deafening crash. Wood splintered, hinges screaming. Three figures surged through the smoke‑tinged air—hooded, masked, guns raised. The first shot rang out before anyone could react.​

The room felt like it detonated. Glass shattered, plaster rained from the ceiling, and the air filled with the acrid stench of gunpowder and blood. Emma saw Joonas first, his face a mask of shock as bullets tore into him. He staggered, arms flailing, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. His body hit the floor with a sickening thud, the vodka bottle beside him shattering, clear liquid mixing with dark red on the worn linoleum.​

Karl tried to run, muscles coiling as he lunged for the hallway, maybe for the same back door Emma had just reached. A second attacker pivoted, tracking him with the barrel of his gun. Two shots cracked in rapid succession. Karl jerked as if punched, then pitched forward, hitting the floor hard. The third shot caught him in the back, sending a spray of crimson across the wall behind him.​

Emma’s breath locked in her chest. Her ears rang, the world narrowing to the splatter of blood on peeling wallpaper, the wet, ragged gasps that weren’t hers. She wanted to scream, to vomit, to run—but her legs were stone.​

Then Liina moved.

She didn’t run for the back door. Instead, she turned, eyes blazing, and sprinted straight toward the attackers, hands raised as if she could somehow push the bullets back. “Ei!” she shouted, voice raw. “Parema!”​

The first attacker swung his gun toward her. Emma saw the muzzle flash, heard the report, felt the concussive wave of it. Time slowed. Liina’s body jerked as bullets slammed into her. She stumbled, arms outstretched, mouth opening in a sound Emma couldn’t hear over the gunfire. Then she was falling, not toward the attackers, but toward the back corridor—toward Emma.​

Liina’s body hit the floor just a few feet from the back door. Blood erupted from her chest and shoulder, painting the wood in thick, glistening streaks. It sprayed across the lower half of the door, splattering Emma’s sneakers, her jeans, the hem of her hoodie. Warmth soaked through the fabric, sticky and impossible to ignore.​

Emma stared, frozen, at the blood spreading like a grotesque flower. Liina’s eyes were open, unfocused, lips moving silently. The pink scarf she’d worn at the airport lay tangled in the mess, one end soaked red.​

The attackers didn’t stop. One of them pivoted toward the back of the flat, where Emma stood, rooted to the spot. The muzzle of his gun swung up, finding her. Emma saw the dark circle of the barrel, the faint glint of light inside it. Her brain registered the movement, the intent, but her body refused to respond.​

Then Miko’s hand clamped down on her wrist again, yanking her backward with a strength she hadn’t expected. The back door swung open, revealing a sliver of night—black sky, snow‑dusted ground, the distant glow of streetlights. Miko shoved her through the opening, his other hand slamming the door shut behind them. The lock clicked into place just as another shot rang out from inside, the impact vibrating through the wood.​

“Run!” Miko shouted, his voice hoarse. He didn’t wait for her to answer. He grabbed her hand again and bolted, dragging her toward the edge of the yard, where a low fence separated the building from a patch of scrubby woods. Snow crunched under their boots, the sound impossibly loud in the sudden quiet after the gunfire.​

Emma ran blindly, her lungs burning, her legs screaming in protest. Every breath tasted of smoke and blood. She could still feel the warmth of Liina’s blood on her skin, see the spray of it across the door, the way Liina’s body had crumpled. The diamonds on the table, the vodka, the laughter—it all felt like a nightmare she’d woken into something worse.​

Miko didn’t look back. He pulled her through the fence, branches snagging at their clothes, and into the woods. The trees closed around them, their bare limbs clawing at the sky. Snow fell in fat, silent flakes, muffling their footsteps. The city lights faded behind them, replaced by the oppressive darkness of the forest.​

Emma’s mind raced, fragments colliding. Liina’s words: “We have to hunt today.” The diamonds. The robbery. The tourists in Old Town. The attackers at the door—rivals? Cops? She didn’t know, didn’t care. All she knew was that Liina was dead, Karl was dead, Joonas was dead, and she was running through the woods with a boy she barely knew, his hand slick with sweat and something else she didn’t want to think about.​

Miko finally slowed, chest heaving, and turned to her. His face was pale, eyes wild. “You okay?” he asked, his English broken and breathless.​

Emma shook her head, tears spilling over. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No, I’m not.”​

Miko didn’t answer. He just grabbed her hand again and pulled her deeper into the woods, the darkness swallowing them whole.