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The car stops. I’m focused on Leo. His eyes are wide and locked on mine.
“Leo—”
The car door opens, and I’m pulled off the seat, surrounded by the scent of sweat and smoke. I don’t struggle, deciding it’s better to seem like less of a threat. My eyes blink, taking in the carnage of two damaged cars. And the dozen men holding guns.
They’re all familiar faces.
The one attached to the man holding me isn’t.
“Drop them, or she dies!”
A new voice joins the melee, one that’s cruel and commanding. Even before he steps right in front of me, I know it must belong to Dmitriy.
If I look closely, I can find traces of the Morozov genetics. He’s a crueler, uglier version of Nick.
When Dmitriy looks at me, I know exactly why he spoke in English. He wants me to know what’s happening. To feel as helpless as possible. To know my life hangs by thin threads and he’s holding the scissors to snip them.
“Nikolaj is not the forgiving type,” he adds.
For a wild second, I think he’s speaking to me, and I’m trying to figure out what offense he thinks I’ve committed.
But then I realize he’s looking at Nick’s men. That he’s talkingaboutme.
I want to scream and tell them no. That the guns they’re pointing at me are the only things protecting Leo, who’s still in the car. He’s too old and too aware not to understand what’s happening. I can’t shield him from this, pretend it’s a game with minimal consequences instead of life or death.
But every gun pointed at Dmitriy and the man holding me falls.
Dmitriy smiles, then walks toward the car. Everything inside me freezes. Even the flow of blood through my veins slows to a lazy trickle.
Valentin is closest to the car. I watch him say something to Dmitriy. Watch Dmitriy laugh. Watch the gun he’s holding fire and a red hole appear in Valentin’s head.
I gasp, seeing him crumple to the ground.
Someone joking and smiling moments ago gone.
I’m stuck somewhere between terror and disbelief.
I’ve seen dead bodies before. I was the one who discovered my mother’s. But I’ve never seen someonedie. The transition from living to gone that’s so fast, you could blink and miss it.
Nick’s words echo in my head.
“There’s only one way out of this life.”
Dmitriy disappears around the opposite side of the car. Tears pool in my eyes because I know exactly what he’s doing, who he’s getting.
This would be my best chance to escape the grip of the man holding me. But even if I managed to get away, I know that Nick’s men won’t risk Leo’s life by firing. His life is far more valuable than mine, and the stakes are way too high.
Dmitriy reappears. I’m relieved to see his gun is pointing at the ground, not at Leo, who’s walking along willingly.
I scan my son, terrified I’ll find some sign of injury. But he looks healthy and alert, taking the scene in with a grim determination that makes him look much older than eight. That makes him look like Nick.
There’s a quick exchange of Russian between Dmitriy and his coconspirator before we’re pulled away, leaving the smoking cars and the stoic men and Valentin’s body behind. I know they’ll call for reinforcements—call Nick—as soon as we’re out of sight.
It worries me that Dmitriydoesn’tappear worried about that inevitability. He could have killed every man there while they stood defenseless, but he didn’t. He’s banking heavily on assurance that Nick won’t risk us as collateral.
Dmitriy has us wait by a van while the other man ties our hands behind our backs. He’s competent in the task. I’m disappointed to find them tight, no sign of sliding or fraying the way you sometimes see in action movies.
“You okay?” I whisper to Leo.
