I find a door that leads to a staircase. I use my phone as a light, stalking slowly into the damp darkness below. Finally, I reach another door. When I open it, it’s to a fully-lit hallway.
I expected decay, rust, filth. But I shouldn’t have—again, this is the man who’s clever enough to have eluded above-ground city warfare for decades. Still, entering the marble-floored, gleaming underground lair of Lebedev catches me off guard.
Maya told me it was nice. I’m not sure why I doubted her.
She also told me where Lebedev’s suite was located.
I swallow, tamping down my fear, and head in that direction. There are dozens of doors, and despite the late hour, I catch voices here and there. Laughter, the clink of glasses.
Somewhere, soft orchestrated music, played with the faint static of a record player. I’ve heard of Russian kingpins with sprawling villas overseas. There is an opulence to this place, but a sober kind. The sconces are ornate but modern, and the tiling is expensive. But the low ceiling and stark lighting speak to paranoia more than taste. This is a man who does not want to be found.
And so far, he hasn’t been.
I try to orient myself as I carefully pad through the labyrinthine hallways. Maya is probably dead—but in my gut, I feel like she’s not.
Was she shot accidentally, and brought here to be mended? Was she really tricking us all along?
Or was she shot purposefully, and brought down here to pay penance or be held ransom? Would her father even care? She claimed it was a ploy, that she was deep undercover with her father’s blessing.
But what if, like Nik, Artur doubts his own daughter’s honesty?
After all, she wanted to coup her father and uncle straight out of the picture. If Artur or Anton had any concept of that, I have a dark inkling they’d be more inclined to just let her die here. Punishment for her crime. Blood or not, grudges run deep and long, especially in this family.
What if she did betray us?
I’m not naïve. I know how possible this is. How likely. But there was an energy in the way she spoke of anarchy and rebuilding this violent, ugly, tyrannical empire. There was a sureness, a devotion. I saw a glimpse of the fiery, sharp-smiling girl I grew up with. The one I always looked up to.
I want to trust her. I want to save her—I just hope I’m right. And I hope my sacrifice will be enough for her, my father, and Nik to live, safe and free.
I find Lebedev’s suite, deep in the underground labyrinth. Although the world down here feels cut off from the one above, insulated and distant, I can hear the rain, the faint vibration of thunder. The suite is exactly where Maya said it was, and it’s guarded by a few hulking Russians dressed all in black. She told me that for ease of access, it’s generally not locked. Will it be now, after the failed attack by us and the Irish?
I stand out of sight for a moment, calculating. As much as I’ve trained and grown up around guns, violence, and death, I’ve never shot—much less killed—anyone. Can I now?
No.
I lean against the wall, releasing a breath I feel like I’ve been holding since I set foot outside of Nik’s place.No. I know what I have to do.
And my plan doesn’t involve showing up, guns blazing, and single-handedly blowing my way through Yvan Lebedev’s syndicate. It doesn’t involve me saving Maya seamlessly and bringing Lebedev’s head to Artur and Anton to secure my loyalty, and my father’s safety.
Anton wanted to use me as bait. He wanted me in danger to garner my father’s desperate allegiance, and the secrets he no doubt scored from Lebedev. He wanted me as insurance, to guarantee Nik’s truest devotion.
Well, I can give him at least part of that. I can pay the pound of flesh to free my father. I can satisfy Lebedev’s rage and betrayal, and keep Nikolai from danger.
All I have to do is die.
17
Nik
“Idon’t know what the fuck she was thinking.” The words are scratched raw as they fall from my lips. My father drives, the quickest option for a ride after Zane took the car. “She’s going to get herself killed.”
My father is silent. His hands on the wheel are steady, glittering with dozens of thick silver rings. His stern face, marble cut and still handsome in his mature years, betrays not even the slightest expression. When I called, he said nothing butbe outside in thirty minutes. He hasn’t been any more forthcoming since.
Rain crashes against the windshield as we glide toward Lebedev’s hideout. My heart is hammering in my chest, raging against my ribs. It feels like it’s going to burst.
I should have known Zane would go after Lebedev herself.Go after? Or go to?
Is she that crazy? Would she really try to sacrifice herself to absolve her father? To save Maya? To free me from our false marriage and the tight-cinched control my father now holds over me?
