The guards hesitate, eyes darting between us and him. I can tell they know him. Maxim snaps his fingers impatiently. “Are you deaf?”
One of the guards finally pulls out his phone, while keeping his weapon trained on Maxim. He speaks rapidly in Russian into thephone. There’s a long pause on the other end. Then he ends the call and gives a stiff nod.
“Inside,” he says.
They march us into the building, still pointing guns at each other. Thankfully, the guns are no longer pointed at us.
We arrive the elevator, and only six of us go in: Maxim, one of his men, Milana and me, and two of the guards. The rest stay behind outside, still facing off with Maxim’s people, guns still raised.
As the doors slide shut, Maxim glances at the armed men and says calmly, “Try not to shoot each other’s heads off while I’m gone.”
The doors close. The tension inside the small metal box is suffocating. No one speaks. The air feels ready to ignite.
As we ride up to my brother’s office, that’s when I realize, what this abduction might be about. Him bringing us here instead of taking us to an abandoned warehouse, or somewhere far where our brothers can’t find us.
Maxim didn’t want to kill us or torture us in some dark warehouse. I think he needed a way to meet with Artyom. If he had simply asked for a meeting, my brother could have refused him. But he knows Artyom can’t ignore a man who shows up with both of his sisters in tow.
But what of the debt he was talking about? What does that mean?
Milana’s hand is ice-cold in mine. I can feel her trembling. Maxim stands relaxed against the wall, looking almost bored, like this is just another Tuesday night for him.
When the doors open on Artyom’s floor, we’re greeted by even more guns. At least six of my brother’s men are waiting, weapons raised and aimed directly at Maxim and his guard.
Maxim doesn’t even blink.
“Get those out of my face and lead the way to Artyom,” he says, voice smooth and commanding.
The guards exchange uneasy glances but comply, keeping their guns trained on him as they escort us down the hallway toward my brother’s office.
My heart is still racing.
Whatever this debt is, whatever Maxim Orlov wants… we’re about to find out. And my brother is about to get so pissed at us for sneaking off to a club.
It’s not long after we step into Artyom’s office and he arrives from home looking worried. His steel-gray eyes lock onto Milana and me first, scanning us from head to toe, checking for injuries.
“Calina, Milana, are you okay?”
“Yes,” we both answer at the same time.
The relief that flickers across his face is brief, and gone in less than a heartbeat. Then his expression hardens into pure ice. He draws his gun in one smooth motion and points it straight at Maxim’s head.
“Give me one good reason not to put a bullet in you right now,” Artyom says, voice deadly calm.
Maxim doesn’t look even a bit bothered. He drawls, “That would be a very stupid thing to do, considering I currently have your sisters.”
“They’re here now,” Artyom replies coldly, finger steady on the trigger. “I could end you before you even blink.”
Maxim lets out a low, almost bored sigh and walks straight past the guns pointed at him. He drops onto the leather couch like he owns the room, crossing one leg over the other with casual arrogance.
“Why don’t you and your men put your toys away so we can talk about why I’m really here?”
Artyom’s jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. I can see the fury rolling off him in waves. He wants to shootMaxim. Badly. His knuckles are white around the grip of the gun.
“You have some fucking nerve coming in here like this, Maxim,” Artyom growls.
Maxim waves a dismissive hand. “You talk too much. Now I see it runs in the family.”
Artyom looks like he’s about to burst an artery. He takes a threatening step forward. “You have one minute. Start talking.”
