Page 229 of Mile High Ruin

Behind me, a door slams open. I turn to see men pouring out of the hospital entrance and the garage almost at the same time, spreading across the concrete with frightening precision, black coats and hard faces moving into place before Viktor has time to do more than shift his stance.

Anton appears first. Then Iosef.

Then two more men I don’t recognize.

My pulse turns deafening.

Viktor goes very still. “Ah,” he murmurs. “I see.”

I look toward the doors.

Vadim steps out last. He’s still in the same rolled-up shirtsleeves from the room upstairs, his face unreadable, his silver hair catching the harsh garage light like something almost unreal.

Our eyes meet.

For one second I see everything at once. The unlocked phone. The message. The kiss. The way he let me fall apart against him while already using me to pull Viktor here.

My throat tightens so hard it hurts. “You did this.”

Vadim says nothing.

He doesn’t deny it.

He doesn’t even look away.

The silence is worse than an answer.

I take one step toward him without meaning to, then stop because his men have already shifted, the circle tightening around Viktor while leaving me stranded in the middle of the thing Vadim built around me.

Viktor’s voice comes from behind me, lower now. “Sloane, step away from him.”

I don’t move. I can’t.

I’m looking only at Vadim. “You made him think I sent it.”

His jaw tightens. Still nothing.

A horrible laugh pushes out of me, breathless and broken. “Of course you did.”

“Sloane,” he says at last.

My name in his voice almost undoes me.

I hate that. I hate him for still being able to do that.

“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t say my name like you care.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Too late.

Petrov looks at Vadim over my shoulder. “So this is how you do it now?” he asks.

I look at Vadim again. Whatever tiny part of me had been trying to excuse him dies right there. “You used me as bait.”

Vadim’s eyes remain on Viktor for another second before they come back to me. There’s something in them now that looks almost like pain.

The baby shifts inside me, a slow pressure beneath my ribs, and I press my hand to my stomach before I can stop myself. For one strange, terrible second, all three of us are connected by the same silent understanding.

Then Anton speaks. “Vadim.”