But they hate me. They have no reason to care for me the way I suspect Maxim, beneath everything, does. They have no reason to fight for my cause, as Maxim does. I wonder suddenly if he’s told them about our children. No doubt they’d accuse me of lying and manipulating him. But if he gave the order to protect me, to raid my father’s compound, to rescue our babies, wouldn’t theyhaveto obey?
“Nothing,” Maxim repeats, running a hand over his jaw. He stares at the blank black background of the phone, the single call icon in the center. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. We’re still heading for the compound tomorrow. We have enough men to effectively guard this place until then.”
“If they sent men here, they’ll have men prepared to follow us too,” I point out, even though I’m sure Maxim and his men have already considered this. “They’ll be lying in wait too, I’m sure.”
Maxim regards me thoughtfully. For a minute, I wonder if he’s going to simply get up and leave. Instead, he asks, “What would you do?”
I don’t bother hiding my surprise. “If I were you?”
“If you were him.”
Ah.Of course. The Daughter of the Snake must certainly think the way the Snake himself does. I open my mouth to bite out some retort about the apple falling far from the tree, when I realize—he’s right. Even after all these years, I do think like my father. I’m not sure I know any other way, even after escaping his world and living on my own.
If I were the Snake, and my ranks had been infiltrated by an enemy, my cargo had been diverted or stolen, and my storage compound for that highly-volatile cargo had been discovered—what would I do? My father already shot Alexei. He already sent men to gun us down. He already stole my daughters, rendering me moot as a bargaining chip. If he were smart, the first thing he would have done is abandon the compound in Siberia.
But he sent someone to retrieve me at the train station. Why?
Unless—no. He didn’t.A chill seeps down my spine.
He sent that man to deliver a message. He knew he would die. He knew he couldn’t possibly get away with stealing me out from under Maxim’s nose so obviously, when he was at a disadvantage. That man, whether he knew it or not, was a sacrifice. A pawn. A messenger—just like Alexei was.
Something else isn’t right about this either. Sending the men here. My father couldn’t have guessed they’d botch their ambush so badly, that the four of us could kill nearly ten of them when they had the upper hand. He might have thought it would be a quick, easy slaughter.
But still…why bother? Why waste the men, especially out here, in the middle of nowhere?
“I’d leave the compound immediately,” I finally tell Maxim. “I’d move my cargo—those people he’s trafficking, that Alexei was helping escape—to an undisclosed location. Anything Alexei had touched, I’d burn, so there was no way he could reveal it.”
“Alexei can’t reveal anything,” Maxim says softly.
“He could. The odds are not good, but he could.”
Maxim studies my face. “You think your father has left the compound. We’re too late.”
“No. That’s what I would do—if I could.” I take the phone from Maxim’s hands and stare down at the unyielding black screen. “But he hasn’t left. The only reason he’d send men after us is because we’re getting close.”
Maxim frowns. “He knows we’re coming.”
“He knows we’re coming, and he’s betting on winning.” And that’s not a surprise. My father would outgun, outman, and outplay us even if we had better numbers, even if we had the element of surprise. The strange thing is that he’s doing ithere, at his compound. “Whatever cargo Alexei moved, it wasn’t all of it. Probably not even close. I’m betting the Snake is staying in place to protect his investment because he can’t move it in time.”
Maxim nods, runs his hand over his face. “So, we’re looking at a fight.”
“A big one. And we’re at a dozen disadvantages. We don’t know Siberia. We don’t know his place. We have far fewer men and resources. The best we’re looking at is a siege, and even then, they’ll just pick us off. They have everything at their disposal. Shelter. Guns. Men. They can hunker down until we’re depleted.”
Maxim stands suddenly and paces away from me. “You’re telling me we should turn back.”
I bristle at his tone. I know I’m only just beginning to earn his trust, but still. It’s frustrating. I know better than him or any of his men how this is going to go down—it’s not a slight to him. It’s a testament to my father’s strength.
“I’m telling you we can’t win,” I say. “Not like this.”
“Thismay be our only shot at crippling him. We’ve never had the upper hand this way. We’ve never had a clear target. If this is really the heart of his operation, we need to shoot it without hesitation. Now, before he has a chance to slither away like he always does.”
“Maxim. This was a half-baked plan at best,” I say, not gently. He needs to recognize when he’s beat. And I need to figure out a better plan—a plan that will get my children back to me. Because if Maxim and all of his men are butchered at this shootout—and itwillbe a shootout—I’ll have no chance of getting my children back. “We’re walking into a massacre. I guarantee it.”
“And what would you have me do? Your father is gearing up to strike me. It may be a death blow. I can’t just walk away.” His eyes narrow. He looks so young right now, an inexperienced captain leading his cavalry into battle.
It occurs to me right then that there is a way. One way.
A way Maxim can’t possibly agree to. But what choice do either of us have?
