Papa is dead.
Uncle is dead.
Kaz is dead.
And soon, we will be too.
Tears spill down my cheeks.
They drag us outside the palace. I finally suck in a proper breath when I see them standing in the garden. They’re alive. But there are guns pressed to their heads.
They are glaring at the men holding us. My eyes meet Matleon’s cold gaze. He scans me from head to toe, searching for any injury.
A black SUV comes flying in. Men pour out of it, four of them flanking a man in a black suit. He looks to be in his mid-thirties.
He approaches and stops in front of us, his eyes locking on my father. “Damir Mikhailov,” he grins, stepping closer. “Do you remember me?”
Papa grits his teeth.
The man laughs. “No, you don’t, because I was this young when you last saw me,” he says, holding his hand beside his stomach. “But I remember you. I lived to take revenge for what you did to us.” He glances at us. “But I won’t offer the women of your family the same choice you gave to mine.”
He steps closer to me, slowly. “She will be used as a sex slave.” He grabs my jaw, turning my head left and right. “Hmm… pretty slave.”
Matleon growls, a low, dangerous rumble that vibrates through the air. Instantly, both the imposter in front of me and I turn to him. His presence is monstrous, every inch radiating power and lethal intent. “Start counting down the seconds of your life, motherfucker,” he snarls.
The man behind him clicks his gun, but the man in front of me raises a hand to stop him. He takes a cautious step toward Matleon, tilting his head. “You are…?”
Matleon’s eyes burn with predatory fury, muscles tense. “Matleon,” he growls, the word carrying the weight of death itself.
A flicker of raw fear crosses the imposter’s face, his confidence cracks. He whispers, “The prince…” He forces a laugh, attempting to mask the panic, but the sound is hollow, desperate. His mocking facade does nothing to hide the terror that Matleon’s shadow casts over him.
The man standing behind me whispers to another in Russian, “Prince of where?”
The man behind Mom replies, “Prince of the underworld.”
The man behind me whispers, yelling, “Prince in that… Prince and Phantom pair?”
No one knew about Zo’s identity as the Phantom until he was attacked, and that same night, everything his attacker owned was burned to the ground. From then on, everyone knew who the Phantom was, and how close he was to the Prince of the Underworld.
The other man hums. “We are done for.”
Matleon smirks.
The imposter’s horror begins to return. He looks around at the sky in sheer terror, and at that very moment, the men standing behind us collapse to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, the four men take control.
Matleon reaches for the man behind him, pulls him to the ground in a single motion, snatches his gun, and fires it into his head. Then he lunges forward, grabs the imposter by the collar, lifts him, and throws him to the ground like he’s a six-foot cotton doll.
I grab the gun from the man lying dead behind me and start firing at anyone I see. Most of them have already resigned to their fate; they know that even if they manage to survive the man in front of them, they won’t survive the Phantom raining bullets from above.
My aim falters, but it’s still causing damage. I back Mom and Aunt toward safety and bring them back inside the palace.With the women out of harm’s way, the men can focus better. I hide behind the door for protection and keep shooting at anyone I can.
Matleon looks toward me after killing the man. All the men from their side are now lying on the ground. Matleon comes toward me with hurried steps. He pulls me into his arms. I hug him back, dropping the gun. The other men also come inside, walking past us toward Mom and Aunt.
“When did Zo arrive?” I ask him.
“An hour before this started.”
“How did this happen?” I glance outside. Dead bodies are scattered everywhere.
