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Kira raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t have to do anything for you.”
I took a long, steadying breath and tried again. “If you want him to survive unscathed, you have to take me to him. Aren’t you his friend?”
Kira smirked. “Actually, I was technically his fiancé until you showed up. Little Songbird.”
“His fiancé?” I nearly squeaked.
“Relax, I’d rather join a cloister than marry Kon. He was helping me out of a difficult situation. Now though, that ruse ends, because of you. He knows what he wants, and he won’t wait to have it.” Kira stood up. I watched her, wondering what secrets her mysterious beauty held. She was so cold and remote, so closed off, and yet, she was Konstantin’s friend.
“If Kon’s stopped pretending, does that mean your difficult situation is over?”
Kira shook her head. “It means he’s stopped helping, but don’t worry about me. You worry about the baby and its daddy’s future. I can take care of myself.”
Then she turned toward the door. “Well, are you coming to save him, or what?”
* * *
By the timewe arrived at the warehouse by the docks where the Song family brought in their shipments, I was shaking with fear. The smell of salt filled the hair, and crying gulls circled overhead. I was rarely involved in any parts of the business. I was separate from all of it, and looking back, it seemed clear that my mother had never intended me to be a perfect mafia bride, like my eldest sister. She had always planned for me to be sent away to look after my grandmother, safely out of harm’s way, to live out my days with my books and hobbies, alone.
I’d taken my fate into my own hands the night I’d snuck out and slept with Konstantin Ivanov, and there was no going back. I was either going to be a bratva bride with a baby on the way, and a possessive, mildly deranged husband, or a single mother, shipped off halfway across the world in shame, nursing a broken heart.
I wasn’t going to let it be the latter. No. This was my life and my decision.
Kira hung back, and let me lead the way, as I passed by Song family men guarding the doors. They looked surprised to see me but didn’t stop me. I was Jae-Han’s sister, and no one would dare.
Inside the building, I heard the sound of the voices and the thud of flesh on flesh that sent me running up the stairs.
I heard them before I saw them.
“Then you’ll die here, Ivanov,” Jae said, just as I caught sight of them.
Kon was kneeling on the floor, and Jae was circling him. He had a white shirt, rolled to the elbows and decorated liberally with red. Kon’s blood.
“No!” I cried out, and dashed forward, only to come up against a hard chest. I’d never even noticed someone coming toward me. Now, I blinked up at Rocco Luciano’s face. His expression could have been hewn from granite.
“Stay back, Hana. Let your brother decide what happens,” he said quietly.
“Why should I?” I demanded, pushing at his chest. “It’s my choice,” I insisted. He barely swayed.
“Hana, you need to get in there,” Kira said just behind me. I turned to see that the usually taciturn Russian was paler than ever. She was watching the room where Kon and Jae were.
“Yeah, I know, but what about-.” Just as I was about to say Rocco’s name, Kira pulled me sharply forward, twisted beneath Rocco’s reaching arm, and a flash of silver in her hand slashed across his face. He cursed, as I stumbled back, his attention turning to fix on Kira fully, as he clapped a hand over his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“You cut me?” His incredulous voice was turning hard quickly.
“You let yourself get cut,” Kira challenged.
Rocco chuckled. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to pay for that.”
“Hana, stop wasting time. I can handle the baby Luciano here,” Kira said to me, never taking her eyes off Rocco, as she twirled her knife between her fingers skillfully. She was right.
I turned from them and sprinted down the hall.
“Jae! Stop!” My scream echoed around the building and he jerked, looking up at me, just as I reached them, and skidded to my knees, and into Kon’s side. Injured as he clearly was, he opened his arms and caught me with barely a wince.
“Oh my god, you’re so hurt,” I muttered, tears immediately springing to my eyes, as I took in his battered face.
“This? It’s a scratch. Don’t worry, Cinderella, I’m tougher than I look,” he said. Even his voice sounded different, issuing through swollen lips.
