The volley of gunfire sent shockwaves through Palace Square, ripping through the panicked crowd. Protesters screamed and scattered in every direction, trampling one another in the chaos. The sharp crack of rifles echoed off the surrounding buildings, drowning out the cries of the wounded and dying.
Kalashkov dove behind a cart, pulling Anya down with him. "Stay low!" he shouted, shielding her from the carnage. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the coppery scent of blood.
"They're killing us!" Anya cried, her voice breaking. "Why are they doing this?"
"They think the assassin is here," Ivan replied grimly. "Fools. They're only making it worse."
