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“It’s been a pleasure,” Sienna smiles.
It’s everything we need to secure ourselves as the sole gun-running traders and market domination I had only dreamed of when setting up the clubs.
“I trust this will be the last time bloodshed occurs when we meet?” Dante asks and he quirks a brow as Sienna moves beside him.
“Yes,” Feliks nods quickly. “I have no aggravation against you. Nor do my men.”
“You teeter on the edge of an abyss, Feliks,” Sienna comments and there’s a poisonous edge to her voice. “Be sure you land on the right side.”
A threat. A warning that we as a family are not opposed to wiping away the Russian stain for good should the alliance become more trouble than it’s worth.
Feliks nods, clasping his hands together.
“I understand completely.”
“You should get out of here,” Dante tilts his head, “we’ll take care of this.”
Feliks doesn’t hesitate and the way he scurries away, calling his men tickles me.
“I thought he was going to piss himself when he saw you, Sienna,” I chuckle and she meets my gaze with a knowing smirk.
“I have a stellar reputation,” she grins. Dante presses a kiss to her cheek and as Archer’s hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing gently, a feeling of satisfaction curls in my chest.
Is this what victory feels like? Are wefinallyon the path to full peace and able to enjoy life?
“How uh…” I scan the carnage around us as Feliks and his men drive out of the parking lot. “How are we gonna explain all this to the cops?”
Sienna shrugs one shoulder, pursing her lips with an amused glint in her eye.
“Self-defense?”
22
CARA
There’s nothing quite like the chill of a tiled floor when you’re feeling nauseous and right now it’s the only thing helping soothe the churning in my gut. Three days. Forthree daysI’ve spent the late morning throwing up each breakfast I made for Kilian and I. It’s not my cooking since Killian reported that he was feeling fine, and it’s not poison since Dante sent someone to sweep through the house not two days ago.
Maybe it’s stress?
My stomach rolls again, a wave of sticky heat sweeping up my spine as my neck tingles and I grab the edges of the toilet seat, waiting. The inevitable rush of bile doesn’t rise this time, thankfully, and I sag back against the wall with a slow, controlled breath.
Definitely stress.
I count slowly in my head, backward from fifty as nausea rolls through me, focusing my breathing to be slow and steady. By the time I reach zero, my heart is calmer and the world feels a little less green. It’s another five minutes before I pull myself up from the floor and flush away the mess, turning to the sink where I flip on the cold tap and run my hands underneath to wash away the clamminess that lingers.
The chill is a shock to my overheated skin but a welcome one after I splash a few handfuls on my face, rubbing my eyes in the process. The movement brings my own face into focus in the mirror and I wince faintly. I’m pale and exhaustion tinges the edges of my face making it look more drawn than usual.
Could I be sick? It is flu season, right?
“Fuck…” A groan rumbles along my throat as a sudden wave of painful cramps shoots through my belly and I turn back to the toilet but the sensation passes quickly.
I’m going to spend my whole freaking day here.
I would have, had my phone not begun to ring from the bedroom. Grabbing a towel, I pat my face dry as I shufflethrough and locate the device in the middle of the bed, half hoping it’s Killian. It would be nice to hear his voice when I’m this shitty.
Oh, it’s Sadie.
“Hello?”
