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I close the door and creep down the hallway, trying to ignore the rush of blood in my ears and the deafening decibels of the metronome in my chest.
If they’re not here, I don’t know what I’ll do.
But I do know it won’t be pretty. People that say they aren’t capable of violence are liars. Everyone is capable of it. It’s a matter of learning what will push you to that point.
I’ve spilled plenty of blood. Out of duty.
This crusade is fueled by love. A pretty, sparkling, soft emotion, capable of wreaking more havoc than hate.
Hate can’t dig under the skin the way love does. It doesn’t alter your cells or spark chemistry. You’d bleed for someone you love, never someone you truly hate. But hate holds a dark power of its own. And right now, both hate and love are driving my decisions.
I’m volatile and angry.
Terrified and nervous.
I kick down the door. Everyone inside jumps. And therearepeople inside.
“Hate what you’ve done with the place.”
Dmitriy’s head jerks toward me so fast, I hear acrack, his expression lost somewhere between disbelief and fury. “Fucking Maxim,” he growls.
I nod, like I have some sympathy for his plight of betrayal. “Loyal men are hard to find these days, aren’t they?”
My eyes scan the room. He only has the one man with him. Stupid and reckless.
I take the opportunity to steal a second glance at Leo and Lyla, who are both looking at me. Leo’s expression is lit up like a Christmas tree. I don’t meet Lyla’s gaze, just look over her body to make sure she’s unharmed. I’m not sure what I’ll see in her expression, and a distraction is the last thing I need right now.
“So are women,” Dmitriy responds, switching to English. “Your American slut offered a fuck for her freedom.” He smirks, then glances at Lyla to catch her reaction.
I know it’s the best opening I’ll get. I fire twice in rapid succession. Head. Heart. The bulky man stumbles once, then falls.
I don’t recognize him. I’m sure Dmitriy made plenty of promises in exchange for his assistance. Instead, he’s paying with his life.
That’s why I hate making promises. They’re easy to make and even easier to break. No debt will ever be collected.
Dmitriy no longer looks amused. His fists are clenched with barely restrained anger, looking at his accomplice with no trace of sympathy and a whole lot of rage as he realizes his advantage just disappeared.
I anticipate his next move, raising my gun at the same time he does. Except Dmitriy isn’t pointing his gun back at me.
He’s aiming straight at Leo.
“Drop it, Nikolaj. Or your son dies.”
It’s my worst nightmare, playing out in high definition. It’s worse than pacing the tarmac in Philadelphia felt. I knew then that Lyla was important to me. I knew I had a son, but I didn’t even know his name. I didn’t know what it would feel like to have a family. To love two people more than you love anything else.
My father’s choices are what got him killed. And I’ve often wondered if he would have done anything differently, knowing he was risking a lot more than his own life. He was an excellentPakhanand an abysmal father. I always swore I would be different.
I’m an excellent shot, as I just demonstrated. “Let them go. They have nothing to do with this.”
Dmitriy clicks his tongue. “I have this theory you’ll be more cooperative if they stay.”
“I’ll stay.”
I glance at Lyla, but she’s focused on Dmitriy. “Let Leo go. I’ll stay.”
Dmitriy tilts his head, considering.
I don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’ll agree.
