Page 27 of Pretty Little Assassin

Her stepfather believes he has set a trap.

By the time he realizes it belongs to us, one of his men will already be talking.

9

VALENTINA

“Yes, I’m sure, Zero.”

“Valentina, Viktor Petrov has an active contract out on your ass. I’m not sure it’s wise to⁠—”

I don’t make a habit of cutting her off. She doesn’t make a habit of using my real name.

We’re both doing it. We’re burning time.

“I didn’t say I’d trust him with my firstborn. I said we have the same enemy, which puts us in bed together for now.”

Petrov’s eyebrow lifts.

“Figuratively,” I snap. “Keep your dick in your pants, Wraith.”

“I know what figuratively means,” he says, then sneezes for at least the millionth time today.

I told him not to touch Mr. Pickles if he wanted his face to stop looking like someone had set it on fire. He doesn’t fucking listen.

“Umm, are we all supposed to be hearing this? Because I have notes, and Zero and I should step out of the digital room until you two work out your sex life—Ow, Zero,” Donnie says as she flicks his ear.

“Hang on, if you two were to have sex, who would be on top? That deserves some prediction modelling. Two rival assassins, both with serious control issues and egos the size of⁠—”

“Shut up, Donnie,” Zero says.

He could go on like that all day.

Caffeine in, words out. He’s a wind-up rabbit powered by energy drinks and code. The nerdy little brother I never asked for, and somewhere along the way, he became someone I can’t do without.

“Fine.” Zero relents. “You can bring the Primacy thug. But one wrong move from the guy and I’ll take him down with Therapy.”

The call disconnects after Zero’s last word, followed by an immediate meeting confirmation text from Donnie.

“Therapy?” Viktor laughs from the side of the room.

His broad frame is leaning back against the chair, with my orange menace stuffed between Viktor’s legs, each roughly the width of my torso. Mr. Pickles doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that Viktor’s muscles alone could squeeze him to death in a matter of seconds. Instead, the damn cat has one leg draped over Viktor’s lap with his tail curled around his head.

They both look equally ridiculous.

“Your friend is wrong. There is not enough therapy in the world to fix me.”

“First off, Therapy is the name of Zero’s custom katana. And don’t for a second think that she won’t try to slice you between the shoulder blades.”

“She can try.”

Fuck. He’s enjoying this. Cocky, gorgeous bastard.

“Secondly, stop calling me pretty, for fuck’s sake. That doesn’t help matters.”

“What matters are you referring to?”

“The matter of me and you being in this ungodly alliance.” Can’t believe I am even hearing myself say that. Me and Viktor fucking Petrov—on the same team.