I stared after where the masked man had disappeared, my blood still pounding in my ears. And that’s when it hit me.
The voice.
Something about it had been nagging at me from the moment he’d spoken, scratching at the back of my mind like a song I couldn’t quite remember. Rough and threatening, yes, but underneath the distortion of the mask, underneath the adrenaline and fury—
“I’ve heard that voice before,” I said slowly, the realization crystallizing.
Illyana turned to look at me. “What?”
“His voice.” I replayed the words in my head, analyzing the cadence, the accent, the particular way he’d formed certain sounds. “I know it. I’ve heard it before.”
“From where? Street? Another parking lot fight? Some Bratva meeting?”
“No.” The certainty grew stronger, more insistent. “Not on the street. Not in a parking lot. Somewhere else. Somewhere….”
I couldn’t place it, but I knew I would.
I looked at the blood on the concrete, illuminated by flickering neon. Looked at the smoke still dissipating into the night air. Thought about Barbara’s face when that phone rang, the fear that made her shake, the bruises I’d seen in the footage.
Thought about Vladimir’s condition. No killing. No violence. Clean hands only.
“I’m going to find him. And then,” I said slowly, “I’m going to make him wish I’d let you kill him.”
Illyana smiled, and it was as sharp as her blade. “Now you’re talking my language.”
We stood in that parking lot, surrounded by evidence of violence and questions that multiplied faster than I could answer them. Los Zetas was supposed to be the threat. Douglas was supposed to be my mission. Vladimir’s conditions were supposed to keep me focused.
But Barbara Davis had thrown all of that into chaos.
And the masked man had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Because now I knew his voice. I was going to find him. Was going to pull apart his life the same way I pulled apart code, looking for vulnerabilities and exploits. Was going to hunt him with the same relentless focus I’d been using to hunt Douglas.
And when I found him, when I finally put a name to that voice, a face to that mask—
Vladimir’s promise be damned.
Some threats needed to be eliminated.
Chapter 9 – Barbara
For the first time in weeks, I felt almost free.
No Bratva eyes watching my every move. No cold shadow lurking in corners, waiting. No demands for money I didn’t have. Just me, alone in my bedroom, music blaring from the speaker loud enough to drown out the thoughts that usually consumed me.
The bass thumped through my body as I twirled across the marble floor, arms outstretched, head thrown back. The lyrics wrapped around me like a promise, something about earning affection, about deserving what you worked for. It felt prophetic in a way I couldn’t quite name.
I spun again, faster this time, letting the music carry me away from reality. From the bruises still fading on my shoulder. From the surveillance footage I knew Kirill had found. From the impossible situation that had no exit strategy.
So, I let myself believe I was someone else. Someone whose biggest problem was what to wear to brunch. Someone who danced because she was happy, not because she was trying to outrun her demons.
Someone free.
Then the music cut off.
I stopped mid-spin, my heart already beginning to race. The speaker sat on my dresser, screen dark. Had the battery died? Had I accidentally….
A large palm clamped over my mouth from behind.
