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Wicked light shines in Kaden’s cold eyes, and he smiles even wider. Then, without warning, he yanks the knife away from her throat and shoves her towards Mikhail. The twins immediately release Jace as well and step back. Jace rolls his shoulder and straightens while Mikhail catches Alina by the arms before she can slam into his chest.
For a few seconds, no one moves.
Then Mikhail jerks his chin. “Get in the car.”
The other four Petrovs quickly close the distance to the waiting car and climb inside. Mikhail remains where he is, his furious eyes locked on Kaden, until they’re all in the vehicle. Then he spits on the ground before Kaden’s feet and stalks to the car as well.
Kaden slips two throwing knives into his left hand, his eyes locked on Mikhail’s back.
“Don’t,” I say softly.
He flexes his fingers but thankfully doesn’t throw the blades.
A thud sounds as Mikhail slides into the car and slams the door shut behind him. Then he revs the engine and drives off. I blow out a long sigh as I watch them go.
Why did the Petrovs have to decide thatthiswas the year that they were going to try to knock us down from our throne? I have enough to deal with because of Isabella. But now, I apparently need to make sure that Jace and Kaden don’t get themselves killed by the fucking Russians too.
I glance at my two brothers-in-arms. Tension ripples around them like waves in the air. If they spend the entire day in our house, they will self-destruct. Or maybe burn it down. Or both.
No. No sitting around at home. Tonight, we need to blow off steam.
7
ISABELLA
Loud music and the smell of alcohol, perfume, and sweat hit me like a brick in the face the moment I step through the door. Drawing my eyebrows down, I glower at the sea of drunk assassins-in-training who fill the entire ground floor of the house. And probably upstairs too, if the thumping sounds coming from the smooth wooden ceiling are any indication.
As I squeeze my way through the crowd, I curse Rico not once but twice. The first time because of the bloody mess he made of my apartment this morning, which took me the entire day to clean up. And the second time because while I was throwing out some of the stuff that Kaden broke in the kitchen, I ran into a couple of girls from my class, who invited me to this party. I tried to politely decline, but they insisted. And if I had kept refusing, that would’ve drawn attention, so now I have to at least put in a short appearance.
All because of Rico fucking Morelli.
“Isabella,” someone calls from my left.
Pushing my way out of the group blocking the hallway, I find myself in a kitchen with one of the girls who invited me. Carla. She has curly brown hair that has been pulled up in an elaborate style, and her brown eyes sparkle, almost as brightly as the gold-shimmering dress she’s wearing, when her gaze finds mine.
“You made it!” she continues, a bright smile on her lips.
I almost wince. She’s actually really nice, and it’s not her fault that I can’t be a normal person, so I wipe any trace of annoyance from my features and smile back. “Yeah, thanks for inviting me.”
“Of course.” She closes the distance between us and runs her hands down my arms and then gently draws her fingers over the fabric of my dress. “Gosh, you look gorgeous!”
I’m wearing a dark purple dress that hugs my chest and then flows out slightly from my waist before ending at my mid-thighs. It fits the persona of Isabella Johnson perfectly. Though I have to admit that I don’t hate it for myself either.
“Have you gotten anything to drink?” Carla asks.
Before I can even reply, she grabs a red plastic cup and fills it to the brim with whatever pink bubbly mix of alcohol is in the bowl next to her on the counter.
“Here,” she says, handing it to me. “Do you—”
A bang sounds from another room down the hall.
She whips her head in that direction, and lightning flashes in her eyes as she bellows, “I told you not to touch the fucking cabinets!”
Snatching up a huge kitchen knife, she spins it in her hand with incredible precision as she starts stalking out of the room. Right before she reaches the door, she seems to remember that I’m still there, because she turns around and flashes me an apologetic smile.
“We’ll talk later, yeah?” she says.
“Yeah,” I lie.
