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“The man’s a ghost,” someone at the other end of the room mutters bitterly. “From what I’ve been able to gather, he has an incredibly large army.”
“How?” I snap. “If he’s been in hiding all this time, how could he have possibly recruited enough men to join his Bratva?”
“Hired mercenaries, most likely,” Mikhail says, his tone unaffected. My brother’s in business mode. Cool, calm, collected. Everything I’m presently not.
I’m eager to go home. I’d much rather spend my time with Simon and Natalya than with these rotten old bastards. The issue at hand is obviously important, but the fact that nobody has managed to lay eyes on Levitsky agitates me. We’re nowhere closer to stopping the man than we were two weeks ago.
My focus wavers. The rest of the meeting doesn’t hold my interest. Mostly just people complaining about the hits they’ve taken since Levitsky started causing trouble. We’re all in the same sinking boat, but if none of them have anything productive to add with regards to tracking him down, I’d rather not waste my energy and focus.
At some point, Boris steps up behind me and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Sir?”
“What?”
“I think something’s wrong.”
I turn slightly in my seat. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been trying to contact the team at the house. You know, running the usual checks?”
My heart quickens. “And?”
“They haven’t responded,” he answers. “I’m getting nothing but radio silence.”
I get up from my chair in an instant. “Let’s go.”
Mikhail frowns at me. “What’s going on?”
“I need to go home. Now.”
He doesn’t hold me back. I’m sure he can sense the edge in my tone, the worry in my eyes. Each second I waste here is a second I could be getting back to the house.
I move quickly, Boris and the rest of my team close behind. We’re in the car in a flash, speeding away on my orders. I’m in the back seat, anxiously trying to call the house phone. It rings and rings and rings… No answer.
“Hurry up!” I snap at Boris.
“There’s traffic, sir.”
“Find a detour. Whatever you have to—just get us there!”
I all but throw myself out of the car the second we arrive, momentarily stunned when my eyes fall upon the carnage. What few guards I left behind to keep the household safe lie dead at the gates, red pooling beneath their cold bodies. The side of my house facing the street has sustained heavy damage, bullet holes and broken glass everywhere.
I draw my weapon from my shoulder holster, normally kept hidden beneath my suit jacket. It’s been a long time since I had to use it. As I approach the front door, I quietly pray I don’t have to now.
My mind is on autopilot, my body moving on its own. Panic tries to get the better of me, but I refuse to let it. Now isn’t the time to lose focus. No matter how badly I want to freak out, I need to keep my wits about me. The enemy could still be near—waiting,hunting.
The moment I step through the open doors—
My heart shatters.
Natalya.
She lies on the cold tile floor, blood seeping through the front of her shirt. She’s conscious, but just barely, one hand pressed to her side. Sweat covers her brow, makes her hair stick to the sides of her face as she gasps, shakes.
I run to her and fall to my knees, pressing my hand to the back of hers to keep pressure against her wound. Her face is pale. I’m losing her fast.
“Natalya,” I wheeze. “Stay with me. Stay with me, Nat. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I don’t believe my own words. There’s no telling how long she’s been like this, bleeding out. There’s a guard beside her, motionless, probably dead.
