I start to shake uncontrollably, and my limbs loosen. I want to drop to the floor and howl until I’m hoarse. I may still do that, but first I’m going to cause some fucking damage. Rage rises up through my body, and I rise with it.
Ilya has his back to me, heading for the door. Mikhail has taken the camera off the tripod and is clipping on a lens cover. Moving before either of them know to react, I reach for the spindly legs of the halogen lamp and I start swinging.
“I hate you!” I cry with a roar that shatters my heart at the same time I smash the lamp across Mikhail’s back.
Glass rains down on us, but Mikhail doesn’t flinch. He wrenches the weapon from my hand, but it’s Ilya who makes up the ground between us. He grabs hold of my throat and his teeth clench as my airway closes. My blood pounds in my head.
“I wonder if your neck would be as easy to snap as your sister’s?”
As I claw at his hands, dark blotches dance across my vision, slowly obscuring Ilya’s hateful features. The pounding of my racing heart against my eardrums grows louder.
“It’s a shame the camera isn’t still rolling,” Mikhail says with a laugh, enjoying the spectacle.
I want to tell him how much I hate him. I want to curse him, and wish him a long and excruciating death, but his grip doesn’t loosen.
“You need to be very careful, Quinn. Lose the baby and you’ll be back in here auditioning for the highest bidder. Reid would never find you, and his brothers certainly wouldn’t lift a finger for a slut like–”
Ilya stops mid-sentence. Still holding my neck, he lifts me off my feet and flings me onto the bed. I don’t have enough air in my lungs to be winded, but as I suck in my first breath, my vision clears. Ilya and Mikhail are staring at each other, eyes wide.
And then I hear it. The sound that made Ilya stop talking. Explosions and rapid gunfire.
Both men race to the door, but Ilya pauses long enough to issue one last threat.
“I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he says. “And once I’ve killed your boyfriend, I’ll beback to put a bullet in your head too.” He smirks. “Or maybe his brothers will get to you first. Good luck trying to convince them not to kill you for what you did to their women.”
The door slams and a key turns in the lock. Ilya’s parting shot should chill me to the bone, but I’m beyond worrying about my future. Blake’s dead. What else matters? I don’t care if the next person through the door is my savior or executioner. I don’t care about anything anymore.
I’d come close to accepting that my sister was likely dead, but Ilya had given me hope in the cruelest of games. I wasn’t fool enough to think she was safe, but I thought Blake was alive. And now… now I’d prefer Ilya’s bullet than face the reality of his lies, and my betrayal. I’d lied to Reid and his brothers to save my sister. My dead sister.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I picture Blake huddled on the bed next to me. If we could climb under the covers and hide like we used to, it could all go away. I want it to go away. I don’t want to feel this pain, this loss. My little sister. My sweet Blake. She died thinking I’d abandoned her.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob as I curl into a ball.
I’m ready to be consumed by my misery, but the cacophony of gunfire and explosions outside is endless. And somewhere high above, there’s the thump, thump of chopper blades. I picture a helicopter with a red griffin on its side. Reid’s here, and he’s risking his life for me.
I peel open my eyes. I can’t let Ilya take someone else I love. I won’t let him do that to me again. He hasn’t won yet. He can’t win. I won’t let him.
Dragging myself out of bed on heavy limbs, I pick up the tripod Mikhail left, and let rage take the place of grief. I scream as I spin the tripod around the room, smashing itagainst the dressing table so hard that the mirror breaks. So does the tripod, and I discard it in favor of a chair.
Rushing for the window, I aim the chair legs past the bars. I strike the glass hard enough for the vibration to travel back up my arm, but the window doesn’t break. It’s bulletproof.
Beyond the window, fires breach the darkness, and ghostly shadows crawl across the perimeter wall and into the compound. I’m about to look away when I notice four men in close formation. They walk with confidence, rifles pointing at unseen targets. They move as one, and when the man leading from the front raises his weapon, our eyes lock.
Chapter 32
Reid
We’ve had only twenty-four hours to prepare for the attack. Jake and Killian McConkey are leading the charge, and the swarm of armed men surrounding Ilya’s compound work together like a well-oiled machine of destruction. Our joined forces have breached the outer walls in one coordinated maneuver. We’re in.
My brothers and I have only one mission, and as the hellfire we’ve unleashed on Ilya breaks the stillness of the night, our path through the rubble is picked out by flashes and flame. I sweep my gaze left and right, looking for potential threats as we enter the combat zone. All of Ilya’s men are fair game. Even if they’re not guilty of touching Quinn, they’re guilty of other unspeakable crimes. I want to kill them all.
“Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing. And don’t worry about us,” Ash says, one step behind me. “We’ve got your back.”
“Quinn’s signal is coming from in there,” Mace says, pointing to a two-story house.
I’m relieved that Quinn isn’t in the elongated building next to it. The layout looks similar to the stable block in Poulton Springs, so I presume it’s where the holding cells will be. The main difference in the two sites is the stucco cladding used here to blend in with the landscape.
The Russian’s compound is on the edges of the desert. Not too isolated for anyone to question their activity, but far enough away from densely populated areas where John McConkey would notice the Russian’s presence. And this is right in the middle of John’s territory.
