“Tell your husband to leave me alone.” Sebastian raised his voice, projecting toward the crowd, toward wherever Kirill was hiding. “I know you’re listening, tech boy. I know you’re out there thinking you’re clever. But here’s the thing….” He moved closer to me, the remote still visible in his hand. “I press this button, and I lose my only sister in this whole world. Which would be tragic. Sad. But if I’m going down anyway?”
He shrugged. The casual gesture made the threat even more terrifying.
“I’m not going down alone.”
Movement exploded from the shadows behind a vendor stall.
Kirill stepped out, and even from across the plaza, I could see the fury radiating off him. He moved with predatory grace, his hand already reaching inside his jacket….
A shout. Someone in the crowd saw the weapon. Saw Kirill moving with obvious violent intent.
Then a gunshot cracked through the air.
Screams shattered the peaceful afternoon. Chaos erupted in every direction, people running, screaming, diving for cover. Vendors abandoning their carts. Parents grabbing children. The normal plaza transforming into a war zone in seconds.
I ducked instinctively, my hands coming up to protect my head. But before I could hit the ground, arms wrapped around me. Kirill. He’d crossed the distance impossibly fast, was shielding me with his body, pulling me toward cover behind a concrete planter.
Another gunshot. This one from Kirill’s weapon.
I watched in horror as Sebastian’s guard—a man I hadn’t even noticed standing at the plaza’s edge—dropped with a bullet through his skull.
“Next bullet goes in your face.” Kirill’s voice was deadly calm despite the chaos. He had his gun trained on Sebastian, who’d frozen mid-step, the remote still clutched in his hand.
For a moment, everything hung in the balance. Sebastian’s thumb on the button. Kirill’s finger on the trigger. Me trapped between them, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might explode.
Then Sebastian smiled.
And dropped the bag.
And ran.
Just turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, abandoning the money, abandoning his leverage, abandoning everything except his own survival instinct.
Kirill started to follow, but I grabbed his arm. “The remote…the explosives!”
“There are no explosives.” Kirill’s voice was tight with barely controlled fury. “He was bluffing. Look.”
I looked at Sebastian’s retreating figure. At the way he was running without looking back. At the remote he’d dropped in his panic—lying on the concrete, plastic casing cracked,no wires visible, no detonator, nothing that suggested it was actually connected to anything.
A bluff. The entire thing had been a bluff.
But it had worked. Had kept us frozen long enough for him to escape. Had played on our fear, our caution, our unwillingness to risk innocent lives.
Classic Sebastian. Always three steps ahead. Always with a backup plan.
Always surviving.
Bratva men were already giving chase, disappearing into the streets after Sebastian. But I knew—we all knew—he’d planned for this too. Had escape routes mapped out. Had contingencies for his contingencies.
He’d gotten away.
Again.
Kirill turned to me, his hands framing my face, checking for injuries even though I hadn’t been touched. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out shaky. “I’m fine. He didn’t—he just ran.”
“He ran because he knew I’d kill him.” Kirill pulled me closer, and I felt the tremor in his hands. Fear. He’d been terrified. For me. For the baby. For all of it. “God, Barbara, when I saw him with that remote….”
