35
HOLLY
They're here.
I stand at the window and watch two black SUVs carve their way through the fresh powder, their headlights cutting into the gray afternoon.
A cold, sharp fear lodges itself between my ribs and spreads through my chest like ice water.
The SUVs stop in front of the lodge, and six armed men in black tactical gear pour out like ants. Followed by two men dressed in expensive coats and large fur hats.
The first is older. Tall and wide, with a face carved from granite. Even from this distance, I can feel the coldness radiating from him.
An instinctive recognition slams through me. Even though I've never seen this man before in my life.
But something buried in my DNA recognizes him anyway.
Predator.
Monster.
My grandfather.
The second man is younger, handsome in a cruel sort of way. Less overtly intimidating, but there's something in the wayhe moves that sets my teeth on edge. Like a predator wearing human skin.
A woman climbs out of the car and joins them. She’s young and glamorous and looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
I watch them cross the snow toward the front porch, their boots leaving deep tracks behind them. Then they disappear from view beneath the overhang, and I'm left staring at nothing but falling snow and armed men securing the perimeter.
I'm shaking so badly, I have to grip the windowsill to stay upright.
This is really happening.
I close my eyes and think about my mom. About her wild heart and spirit, and the courage she showed to defy this man. And when I open my eyes again, I know her strength is with me.
Nikolai was right.
Today this ends.
After thirty years, it fucking ends.
36
NIKOLAI
Yuri Orlova. The Wolf.
The great room feels smaller with him in it.
He stands near the fireplace, his coat still on, his cold eyes sweeping the room like he's already calculating how to dominate the space. Mila, his wife of four months, lingers behind him, looking at her phone with the kind of disinterest that comes from being with a man you despise.
Ivan, his right hand man, positions himself slightly to Yuri's left, his gaze sharp and assessing. While Yuri's two bodyguards flank the door, mirroring my own men on the opposite side.
I stand in the center of the room with Dimitri at my shoulder.
"Nikolai," Yuri says, his accent thick. "You bring me all the way to this mountain in the middle of winter." He spreads his hands in a gesture that's anything but friendly. "What is so fucking urgent it cannot wait?"
I move to the bar and pour myself a vodka. I don't offer him one. "Would you like to sit?"
