Disgust is thick in her tone, and I ease up onto my elbow, fear pounding in my chest. “Milan,” I warn, my heart racing a million miles an hour.
Milan’s gaze sweeps back to mine, and when a wicked smirk cutsacross her face, my world plummets, right along with Spikezilla and Needles as she opens her hands, letting them both crash to the ground.
A sharp, pained yelp tears from the back of my throat, watching in horror as both their pots smash into a million pieces, soil scattering across the bloodstained floor.
Oh, hell no.
That fucking bitch.
Rage ignites in my chest, and it takes everything in me not to launch myself across the room. I need to regain proper movement of my body before I can strike.
“Oh,” she says sweetly. “Almost forgot. I brought you a surprise.”
My gaze snaps up toward my broken front door just as a man appears, stepping over a body to enter right into my apartment, a smirk lingering on his lips as he takes me in, sprawled across the floor without an ounce of energy to fight.
Louis Mendez.
What the actual fuck?
“Hello, sweetheart,” he says smoothly, that chilling tone sending shivers down my spine. But not out of fear. I don’t fear this man. He’s vile and wants things I’ll never give him, but he couldn’t touch me even if he tried. The bigger question here is, how the fuck is he related to all of this bullshit? “I’ve been looking for you.”
Not giving Louis the time of day, I ignore him as I sweep my attention back to Milan, my body getting stronger by the second. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Milan stares at me as though I haven’t been paying attention. “Hacker. Duh,” she says with a grunt, rolling her eyes. “I tapped your phone and found his texts, and he was all too willing to play his part. Apparently you owe him big time.”
I scoff in disgust, and deciding I’ve finally had enough, I spring to my feet, my body still shaking, but I won’t need much to take out these two morons.
Milan’s eyes widen, scrambling to activate the taser again, but I reach around to my back and yank the prongs that are embedded in my skin free, carelessly dropping them to the floor as I slam my foot down against the blade of my kitchen knife, sending it whipping up into the air.
I catch it with ease, and before it even has a chance to settle in my palm, it’s already flying across my apartment, plunging deep into the front of Louis’ throat. Hell, I don’t even look toward him. My peripheral vision aim is just that good.
Instead, I keep my stare trained on Milan, slowly inching toward her, the rage I feel like nothing else. Because all of this is on her. She orchestrated every inch of it, and if Raiden is dying just feet away from me right now, and I’m missing my one shot to save him, then I will never forgive myself.
Louis goes down with a heavy thud, but all I’m focused on is her.
Milan’s mouth opens slightly, disbelief flashing across her face, but it quickly morphs into fear as she takes a step back, crushing Spikezilla’s roots beneath her feet.
“You . . .” she breathes. “No, it’s not possible. You shouldn’t have been able to—”
I grin. “You should know better, Milan. I tell you all the time, there’s nothing I love better than when somebody underestimates me. Makes my job a fucking treat.”
She doesn’t respond, just attempts to back up further, only her hip catches the edge of my entryway table, leaving her nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“Loyalty means everything to me, Milan,” I say quietly. “You know that best, yet here you are. You knew better. Betrayal doesn’t suit you. It’s ugly, and honestly, you can’t pull it off.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows.
For a second, something like regret flickers in her eyes, but it’s too late for that, and I move forward, my steps steady despite the lingering tremor in my aching muscles.
Pausing by a body, I pluck a blade from his vest, quickly scanning over it. It’s nice. The guy clearly had good taste, though it doesn’t compare to any of my favorites.
I test the weight of the blade in my hand as I continue toward Milan, the steel cool as it settles naturally against my palm.
“I’m going to frame this blade once I’m through with you,” I tell her, my voice low and steady despite the storm raging through my chest. “It’ll sit up on a mantle somewhere. I won’t even wipe your blood off it. I’ll let it stay there exactly the way it is, rust creeping along the edge like a slow infection.”
Milan watches me approach, her confidence fractured. I can see it in the way her shoulders stiffen, the way her fingers twitch around the weapon in her hand as if she’s only just remembering that the woman standing in front of her isn’t the same one she’s spent countless nights talking with into the early hours of the morning.
“You’re not getting out of this,” she says, but the words sound thinner now, stripped of the smug certainty she wore only moments ago. “They’ll never stop hunting you.”
