Page 13 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

"You don't have to come inside," he says.

It's not what I expected, and it knocks me off balance. "What?" Of course I'm coming inside. I don't want these idiots knocking my father around. I'm here to convince him that it's safe.

"When we get there. You can stay in the vehicle with a man on you, and we bring your father out to you." The way he's talking has shifted now, losing the edge it had. He's gone into a monotone, like this is nothing more than planning logistics. I wonder if he's trying to play me now, get me worked up. "What's about to happen on that compound isn't a thing you walk away from clean. Men are going to die, and every time you close your eyes, you'll see it."

My chest feels like someone is squeezing me, almost crushing me. But when I look him in the eye again, I don't see the look on his face that says he's goading me.

"You're trying to protect me?" I ask, feeling confused. Sure, a man in his position would want to protect an object or his leverage, but that look on his face, one of concern, says it's not that.

"I'm protecting an asset." He schools the compassion in his eyes and turns away. "Trauma makes people unreliable. I need you steady when your father sees you, not falling apart."

It’s a good answer, but he can't look me in the eye as he says it. It means he's being disingenuous. He's hiding something.

I make myself stare out the window at nothing, only clouds blocking my view. Why would he want to protect me like that? Other than the strange attraction we're dancing around, he doesn't know me. He has no knowledge of my life or my dreams. He has no claim to stake to my heart or body. But I swear I saw him look concerned.

"I'm coming inside," I say. "Papa needs to see me, not be handed to me like a package."

I hear Demin sigh and shift in his seat, then he says, "Stubborn," almost to himself.

"You'd know," I throw back, annoyed that he won't just come out and say what it is he's thinking. But when I look back at him, he's staring at his phone. There is an open text message thread which he scowls at, and I peek over to try to read it. He's faster than me, locking the screen as his jaw tightens.

"What is it?" I ask, suddenly feeling concerned. I know how risky this is already. If there's a problem, I don't want him to back off and not go. I have to get my father out of there.

"Heightened security around the compound," he grumbles. "It means someone has leaked that there's a threat."

My mind whips through about a dozen reasons why that'd happen. In all the time they've been forcing Papa to work for them, they only heightened security a few times. But I know what that means. Solano would double the guards, increase patrols, and likely, they'd move my father to a more interior room, farther from our room on the wall.

"Are you going to turn back?" I ask, and I'm almost whining. He can't turn back. My father needs our help. I need Demin to get him out of there and away from Solano. They’ll kill him without remorse.

Demin turns to eye me and shakes his head. "No. We'll continue with our mission. But it will be more dangerous. Maybe you should stay with the plane. We can use chloroform to⁠—"

"No," I snip hastily. "I said I'm going in. You're not drugging my father. Okay? I can handle it."

I have no clue whether I can handle it. I don’t know what it looks like to see a human being die, and I don’t want to find out, but my gut tells me tonight will be my first experience with that.

"Suit yourself. Just know that there will be a target on your forehead, honey. And I may not be able to stop them from killing you."

Demin's words chill me and I turn back to the window when he pulls his phone out and starts typing.

I survived being shipped from Spain to Germany in a crate for three days. I can survive twenty minutes in a fiery gun battle. Right? For my father…

So why are my insides shaking like Jell-O and my knees wanting to give out even while I'm seated?

10

DEMIN

"Match my steps," I murmur, not turning my head. "When I crouch, you crouch. When I stop, you're a statue."

"I've got it." Isabela's voice has a thread in it that wasn't there on the plane. She's terrified and I'm not surprised. I should've made her stay on the fucking plane, or at the very least in the SUV. This is no place for someone shaking like a leaf. I knew she couldn't handle this and I went against my better judgment to let her. I'm foolish, swayed by my hormones and my conflicting desire for her.

Mishka comes up on my right with his rifle slung, lifting two fingers toward the dark.

"Mikhail's holding the east wall," he says. "He says the roof men rotate every twenty. We've got maybe twelve minutes before the next pair walks the south corner."

"Then we don't waste them." I key the radio once. "Teams—Bart, take four and go for the lab. Mishka is with me for the old man. Mikhail, hold the wall and keep that gate from closing behind us. Nobody fires until I do. Once I do, you don't stop."

A run of clicks answers me as Bart peels off into the darkness with his four, swallowed by it inside of three steps. The rest of us drift the other way along the wall toward the gap Mikhail's already cut in the fence.