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“Younever took days off.”
Mom pats Dad’s chest gently. “And let that be a lesson for you. If you’re going to lead the Antonovs, you have to take care of your health.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m going now. End of conversation.”
“She’s totally seeing someone,” I hear Mom titter as I leave.
“Leave her be, Aurora,” Dad replies warmly. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”
Except I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
* * *
I have Vance drop me off a block away from the hotel like I normally do. He doesn’t ask any unnecessary questions, and I’m frankly thankful for it. The man definitely deserves a raise for his discretion.
“Ma’am?” he calls from behind the steering wheel.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to disturb, but… is that your brother?”
I look through the windshield and spot Frederick standing in front of the entrance of the Barvosky. My heart does a three-sixty flip inside my rib cage before plummeting straight into my abdomen. What the hell is he doing here? If he spots me, he’ll have questions I likely don’t have any good answers to.
“Wait here,” I order Vance before scrambling out of the car.
The air is brisk and tinged with urgency, the surface of my skin crackling with something electric and sharp. Something isn’t right here. I could sense it from the moment I read Andrei’s texts. How else can I explain the cold, swirling nausea threatening to make me hurl?
When Freddy spots me, he smiles and waves. “There you are!”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, quickly grasping his hand to drag him toward the waiting car.
He arches a brow, confusion washing over his expression. “What amIdoing here? You texted me.”
Goosebumps break out over my arms, the back of my neck. “I didn’t text you, Freddy.”
My brother shuffles through his pockets and retrieves his phone, holding out to show the messages in question. “This isn’t you?”
I have something important to show you.
Come to the Barvosky at 9.
I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. What the hell is going on here? Did someone hack into my phone?
“You need to leave,” I tell him, panic rising in my chest. “Right now, Freddy!”
“What—”
The loud, ear shattering screech of tires against the pavement screams through the air. A black SUV pulls up. Jumps the curb. A man I’ve never seen before steps out, nostrils flared and lips pressed into a thin line. I see no tattoos on him, no markings indicating which family he belongs to. All I can focus on is the murderous look in his eyes and the gun pointed directly at my brother and me.
“Andrei Nicolaevich gives his best,” the man says before firing.
One shot.
Two shots.
They ring out, tearing through the night. Nearby pedestrians scream, running frantically for cover. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vance and the rest of my security detail getting out of the car, hurriedly drawing their weapons. There’s a loud ringing in my ears, nearly drowned out by the anxious beat of my heart.
The smell of blood fills my brain. Freddy collapses in my arms. He’s been shot in the arm and the leg. Neither injury looks vital—thank God—but I can’t stop screaming his name. His face cringes in pain, his teeth grinding together. The gunman in question is already on the move, rushing back to his vehicle to drive away.
