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Roman crouches down by Pavel’s side, pressing down on his wound. “Go." He waves me off. “Get King. I’ll get Pavel out of here and warn the others about her.”
I hesitate, but I know Roman is right. I need to end this here and now before it spirals further.
With my weapon extended before me, I approach the office door, senses heightened. As I'm about to force entry into King's office, a single gunshot from inside the room stops me in my tracks. Fuck!
My stomach churns with the realization that I’m too late. But I have to see for myself.
Inside, I find Lai King's body slumped forwards over the desk, a pistol loose in his lifeless grip, blood painting the papers and wood beneath him. Fuck me.
He chose his own end over facing me. I almost can’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to face me either.
On the desk in front of him, the computer monitor flickers with the remnants of a data wipe, lines of code cascading down as the last of the files vanish into the digital void. A snarl rips from my throat. Lai King took the coward's way out, and he took the secrets I'd hoped to wrench from his lips with him. Not only did I not get the fight I came for, information that I want is all but disappearing before my eyes.
I grab the nearest thing—a crystal paperweight—and hurl it against the wall, where it shatters with satisfying violence. All this way, for a dead man and a wiped computer.
I scan the room, half-expecting some final trick, but there's nothing. Only the quiet hum of electronics and the faint scent of gunpowder.
I turn, about to leave when the satellite phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, the screen lights up with a message from Viktor that punches the air from my lungs.
Viktor: Kira is missing.
CHAPTER FORTY
KIRA
Consciousness creeps backto me like a thief, slow and stealthy. My eyes flutter open, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m in a familiar room. The worn wallpaper, the sturdy oak dresser, a patchwork quilt on the wall. This is my aunt's cabin in the woods. What am I doing here?
Memories flood back in a torrent. Nadya, her gun, her cold voice as she ordered me into the car. The sharp sting of a needle. I have no idea how long I’ve been out or how the hell Nadya knows about this place, but my only priority is getting out of here.
As I try to roll over, I’m unable to move. My wrists and ankles are bound to the bedposts, the rope biting into my skin. Panic claws at my throat, my pulse racing. I thrash at my restraints and cry for help, even though I’m well aware of how isolated this cabin is. My voice comes out croaky and weak, but still, I have to do something.
“Don’t bother. There’s no one around to hear you.”
That voice.
I scan the room, and there she is. Nadya, rocking methodically in the chair beside the bed, the clicking of her knitting needles filling the otherwise quiet space.
“Why are we here?" I rasp, swallowing the fear that's thick in my throat.
She doesn't bother to look up. “It’s where your aunt was hiding before her death, and now it’s where I’m keeping you until your final breath. Isn’t that fitting?” A shadow of a smile crosses Nadya's face, and it’s creepy as hell.
"Why … why are you doing this?"
"You should have been put down a long time ago," she says simply as if that explains everything. "You were meant to die with Masha. I’m finishing the job since your father’s not around to do it himself.”
Dread pools deep in my belly. “Youkilled Masha?”
Nadya stops knitting, finally locking eyes with me. "No. I only lured her out of hiding. Your father did the actual torture and killing. Made a special trip from New York to ensure the job was done right. Of course, Masha wouldn’t give up your location. It’s why she died in such an ugly way—protecting you.”
Bile rises in my throat. The ropes allow me enough leeway to turn and retch up my last meal over the side of the bed.
Nadya doesn’t seem to notice or care—she’s in her own world.
"How could you?" I gasp, tears of anger and heartbreak streaming down my face. "Masha was innocent. She did nothing to deserve such a brutal end!”
Nadya doesn’t flinch. With an eerie calm, she sets her knitting aside, her hands resting in her lap. "Your aunt got exactly what she deserved, and so will you."
“No one deserves to die like that. What could you possibly have against us? All we did was rid the world of a madman.”
