He starts touching me over my clothes. I’m so worked up, it just might be enough.
I grab his shoulders, hold on for dear life?—
“GET DOWN!”
—and that’s when some dickhead starts shooting.
34
YULIAN
The second the first shot rings out, I drag Mia behind the corner of the bathroom hallway. “Stay down.”
For once, she obeys.
I start running calculations in my brain. The trajectory of the bullets, everyone else’s positions, the math of life or death. They’ve all dived for cover, exactly the way we devised: Zhenya and Anton behind the bar on the west wall, holding a rifle each; Kazimir under the pool table to the east side, his gun drawn and ready; and Maksim tucked behind the balustrade with Kallie, high above on the north end of the room, trying to locate the source of the gunfire.
But the south is exposed. They need me there.
I start heading out when Mia catches my wrist. “Wait! Where are you going?!”
“To do my part.”
Her eyes are wide, panicked, filled with tears and terror. It kills me to see her like this, to know I’m the reason she’s scared. Not the bullets, not Desya—me.
“You can’t,” she rasps. “You’ll get shot, you’ll?—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Neither could you, but you still came.” It’s harsh, uncalled for, but the truth is rarely anything else. “You asked me to trust you. I did. Now, I need you to trust me and let me go.”
She doesn’t want to do that. I can read it on her face—she’d sooner throw herself in the line of fire than let me do this.
But I’m prepared to act whether she likes it or not.
She must see it in my eyes. Slowly, her fingers unfurl. “Come back to me,” she orders.
“I will.” I press a quick kiss to her forehead. I wish it were her lips, but if I did that, then I’d never leave. “Stay here. Don’t come out until it’s safe.”
“Okay,” she croaks.
One last touch. One last graze of fingertips. One last promise.
Then I’m running through a rain of bullets.
My ankle gets grazed immediately. I duck and roll, earning a singed line across my shoulder, but it’s only my suit jacket that’s burned.
This isn’t the work of a single shooter. I can tell by the way the bullets fly, coming in from all sides. Wherever Desya is, he’s keeping his promise right now.
Join me, or die.
Like hell I’ll do either one.
I dart under the pool table and cover Kazimir’s flank. “Report,” I demand.
“Pardon my French, boss, but they’re fucking everywhere.”
