Page 97 of Barinov

“Cover me,” I whisper.

Mac nods, gun raised.

We step inside and time slows. Blood pools around the tiles like melted rose petals. A hot-pink dress clings to a trembling body curled up in the corner.

Charlotte.

She’s cradling and rocking Leith’s bleeding body like it’s a porcelain doll that shattered in her arms.

“Shit,” I breathe, lowering my weapon.

Charlotte lifts her head. Her makeup’s ruined, tiny rivers of black spill down her cheeks. There’s blood in her hair and streaks down her arms.

“I-I tried,” she chokes out, hands stained and shaking. “I tried to stop the blood.” She looks back down at her brother and kisses his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

Mac steps in behind me, jaw clenched. He slowly kneels down beside her and presses two fingers to Leith’s neck. He glances back up at me and shakes his head.

“Damn it!” I shout.

“Somebody talk to me!” Nate roars in my ear. “What the hell is happening?”

“All clear out here. Got seven of the girls hidden behind the bar,” Kenji confirms. “We’ll need medics for two of them.”

“It’s a bloodbath,” Khoza adds. “The guards and a few buyers are down. Some of the girls didn’t make it past the stage.”

“Not much better back here,” Mac says with a deep sigh. “We’ve got Charlotte.”

“And Leith?” Nate asks.

Mac looks up at me. “He’s gone.”

“I’ll head that way,” Nate says.

“Don’t!” Mac yells into the comms. “Keep Callie and Anthony outside. I won’t have ‘em seeing this shit.”

“Heard,” Nate confirms.

“Did anyone ever get eyes on Chang?” I ask.

“I saw him run out the back,” Kenji says. “But two girls ran into me and by the time I got them hidden, he was gone. I’m sorry, Laing. I’ve failed you.”

“So we’ve got nothing,” I rasp, my hand flying through my hair. “Our only lead to Meilin, just fucking gone!”

There’s a quiet sniffle from the corner. “Meilin wasn’t here,” Charlotte whispers, running her fingers through her brother’s bloody hair. “She stayed home.”

My head jerks to her. “What did you just say?”

“Meilin,” she repeats, looking up at me through watery eyes. “She wasn’t here.”

“You know my sister?” I yank out my phone and scroll through my pictures. I find one and tilt it toward Charlotte. “This girl?” I ask, pointing to it. “You know my Meilin?”

“Well,” she says, squinting at the picture. “Her hair is longer but yes, that’s his favorite.”

“Where?”

“In the London house.”

“What do you mean his favorite?” Mac asks gently.