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“Dad!” Tiana’s nails rake at my arm as she struggles against me.
“Follow me!” I haul her off her feet and drag her kicking and screaming across the room to the safety of a nearby cabinet, ducking behind it. I poke my head out quickly and take in the sight of shattered windows and drapes riddled with bullet holes, the tattered fabric flying as more gunfire is exchanged. My men are returning fire in full fury now, raining hell at the shadowed forms that are moving quickly beyond the ruined window frame.
A quick look around has my attention stopping on the door to my strong room. The small space houses a safe for cash from various deals and my most confidential documents. No windows. Only one door, and it’s armor-plated.
There!
Yanking her arm, I charge the short distance to the door, swipe my thumb over a biometric pad, and fling it open. She’s not resisting me now when I push her inside. In fact, a glance at her face tells me she’s probably in shock. Tear-soaked eyes stare up at me in a daze. The flicker of remorse I feel is a distraction that I shove to the back of my mind.
There’s work to be done.
“Don’t you fucking move from here!” I bark as I race out of the door. I lock it behind me just to be sure she obeys.
People are going to die out here today.
But I’ll be fucked if I let her be one of them.
Chapter Seven
Tiana
My head is reeling and my heart thundering as I try to take in what’s just happened.
Adrenaline has flooded my system, but as it begins to dissipate, I find myself beginning to shake. I sink to the floor as my legs crumple; the primal instinct that had kept me on my feet begins to subside.
I lift trembling hands to cover my face. Beyond the shock of bullets screaming past me and narrowly escaping death, one thing stands out.
Dad!
He’s gone!
I can’t believe I just saw my father die. It can’t be real. None of this is real. I’m sure that any moment now, I’m going to wake up and realize that it’s all been some horrifying nightmare. But as I take in my surroundings, feel the cold of the floor through the fabric of my jeans, and inhale the slightly musty scent of the air, I know that this is no dream. I’m locked in a tiny room, bullets flying around beyond the door, while my father lies in a pool of his own blood.
Oh, God…
Dad.
He was a bastard who used me and prepared me my whole life to sell me, but beneath it all, he was the man who fathered me. And maybe there was remorse there when he admitted what he’d done. There might still have been a chance for us. He did what he did because he was afraid for his life. He thought he had no choice. And maybe, in his sick and twisted way, he really believed that I would be okay with Kirill Vyronov.
Now I’ll never know.
Someone literally blew his brains out. Right in front of me. When I glance down at the front of my T-shirt, it’s splattered with blood. My father’s blood. I gag, fighting down bile as the moments replay themselves in my head like a technicolor nightmare.
Except this nightmare was reality.
My reality.
And there is no way out.
The room starts to close in on me. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and when I put a hand to my chest, I can feel my heart pounding. My lips tingle, and my head spins. I’m starting to hyperventilate; I recognize the signs of a panic attack looming.
Calm down Tee!
Burning in my palms draws my eyes down to where I’ve carved groves into my skin with my fingernails. I hadn’t even felt myself doing it. All I can remember is the strength of his rough palms as he pulled me through the room, ducking bullets as we ran.
Was he shielding me?
It seems unlikely. Why would he do that? I’m nothing to the man, aside from a big bunch of cash, and clearly, he can afford it. Maybe that’s why.
