“Clean this up,” I order. “Nothing leads back to her. Understood?”
He dips his chin once, then turns to bark more orders at his men.
Plastic sheets unfurl. Buckets slam down. The room fills with the quick shuffle of boots across the floor. Efficient. Controlled. Exactly as it should be.
Then I turn back to Ivan.
“Take her back to the house,” I tell him flatly. “Straight there. Have Anya look after her until I get back. No one goes in or out, you understand?”
Ivan nods immediately. “I’ll do that.”
Then he helps Kira to her feet. She sways, hands on his arm, eyes still red and glassy. Her gaze meets mine once again, a quick look filled with something sharp.
Then Ivan leads her out. The warehouse door creaks shut behind them. Only the stink of blood and the bustle of the cleaners linger behind them.
Aside from that, silence.
I stand there a moment longer. My hands curl into fists.
This never should have happened.I should have been here. If I’d come straight here from the hospital with them, started punching answers out of that guy before Kira could show up to finish the job, I could have prevented this.
But I didn’t. I was too wrapped up in Sima. She’s been twisting me up inside since the day she walked into my fucking life.
Now my brother’s wife is sitting at home in shock because I wasn’t there for her. Dimitri can’t protect her now—that responsibility falls to me.
Tonight, I failed her.
Never again.
“Petyr.”
I barely get two steps towards the door before Lev pulls me aside. I hadn’t even noticed him in all the chaos.
His hand clamps down on my arm. His eyes are sharp, mouth set into a tight line. “Anatoli wants to meet.”
I freeze. “What?”
“Just the two of you. Says he’s ready to talk truce.”
For a beat, I just stare at him.
Suddenly, Sima’s words flash back into my mind.
“Anatoli wants to kill you. He has Lev under his thumb.”
I clench my fists out of sight. What Lev just told me, the way he said it—it’s exactly what Sima warned me would happen. To the last fucking detail.
I narrow my eyes, careful to keep my tone even. “A truce? Since when does Anatoli negotiate?”
Lev shrugs and his grip on my arm loosens. “Maybe he’s tired of bleeding men. God knows we are, too.”
His explanation makes sense. Anatoli doesn’t back down, let alone play nice, but his father could have easily pressured him into a ceasefire. If Sima hadn’t warned me, I would have believed it in a heartbeat.
But she did warn me. And I don’t buy this truce. Not for a fucking second.
Still, I can’t show suspicion. If Lev is what Sima says he is, then he can’t know I’m onto him.
“How did he get in touch?” I ask, carefully neutral. “I doubt Anatoli picked up the phone himself.”
