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Two hours later, Lyon dragged Ivan by his arm to the front door of the estate, Alek at his side with a terrified man who smelled of piss and fear, his hands bound by zip ties.
The door opened, and a familiar suited man blanched in surprise.
“Excuse me.” Lyon muscled past him, still dragging Ivan, his eyes open and unseeing.
At least the hole in his head had stopped dripping blood.
Alek followed as he made his way to the antechamber leading to the ballroom, Ivan’s body dragging across the intricate carpets.
“Excuse me, Mr. Antonov!” The suited man called after him, striding to catch up. “I’m not sure they’re ready —”
Lyon had called on the way over, but he wasn’t particularly interested in whether they were ready for him. He entered the antechamber and headed for the ballroom door, bursting through it with Alek on his heels.
He was halfway to the curved table, the Spies — all but one — staring at him in shock, when four guards raced into the room with weapons drawn.
“I’m sorry,” the one who’d answered the door said. “He walked in before — ”
“That will be all,” Luka said to him.
The guard blinked in surprise, then backed out with the others while Lyon and Alek continued toward the table.
When Lyon finally reached it, he flung Ivan’s dead body toward the eight men looking at him with wide eyes. It landed with a thud in front of the council’s table.
Luka and Borya didn’t look all that surprised.
“You had a traitor in your midst,” Lyon said. “I’m sure you’ll find all the evidence you need at his place of residence.”
Alek shoved the terrified man toward them. “But just in case, Timur here has a lot to tell you.”
Lyon stepped back and affected an air of humility. “I trust our problems are at an end. I look forward to serving our organization with humility and honor.”
He didn’t wait for their reply to turn around and head for the door.
His wife was waiting.
45
Kira felt like her body was being ripped in two as another contraction bore down on her.
She gripped Lyon’s hand, breathing through it, trying not to clench her muscles when it felt like the most natural thing in the world to contract with the pain.
Lyon smoothed her hair, damp with sweat, back from her head. “You’re doing wonderfully, darling.”
The contraction slowly subsided and Kira panted as she tried to catch her breath before the next one. They were coming faster now, and she had the sense that she was on a runaway train with no conductor, no breaks.
“How are you doing?” A nurse with graying hair and warm green eyes asked as she entered the room.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Kira said, only half joking. She’d so far managed to hold off on the epidural, but she wasn’t at all above changing her mind about pain relief. “I’d like to go home now."
The nurse smiled sympathetically. “I understand, believe me. I have three of my own.” She looked at the readout on the monitor. “I think you’re close. Let’s have a look.”
Kira had felt modest when they’d arrived at the hospital ten hours earlier. Now she spread her legs without a word. The janitor could have come in to mop the floors for all she cared.
She just wanted this over.
The nurse slipped on gloves, sat between Kira’s legs, and felt for her cervix.
“Good news. You’re fully dilated. I need you to breathe through your next contraction, okay? Don’t push until we’re ready.”
