“I know.” I buried my face against his chest, breathing in his scent, letting his solid presence anchor me. “I know.”
Around us, the plaza was still chaos. Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Civilians were being evacuated. Bratva men were melting back into the crowd, disappearing before law enforcement arrived.
We needed to leave. Needed to get out before we had to answer questions we couldn’t answer honestly.
But for just a moment, I let myself have this. Let myself be held by my husband. Let myself acknowledge how close we’d come to disaster.
How close I’d come to being exactly what Sebastian predicted—going home in pieces.
“We’ll find him,” Kirill murmured against my hair. “He can’t run forever. We’ll find him, and when we do….”
“When we do,” I finished, “he pays for everything.”
Not just the blackmail. Not just the video. Not just today’s terror.
For my mother. For five years of fear. For every moment he’d made me believe I was alone and helpless and without options.
Sebastian had escaped today.
But his freedom was running out.
And when it did, when Kirill finally caught him, there would be no mercy.
I was counting on it.
Chapter 24 – Kirill
The warehouse district reeked of rust and stale air. Sodium lights flickered against cracked pavement, casting long shadows between gutted buildings that had been forgotten by the city years ago. I pulled up three blocks out, killing the engine. Drew rolled in behind me, Timur to my left. Damir brought up the rear in a black SUV that had seen better days but still ran silent as death.
No words. We didn’t need them.
I checked my Glock—loaded, chambered, safety off. The weight of it felt right in my palm. Familiar. Like typing code or breathing. The blade strapped to my thigh was just as ready, its edge sharp enough to split hairs. I’d sharpened it myself that morning, methodical strokes across the whetstone while Barbara slept. She didn’t need to know what I was about to do. She needed to believe I was handling business, clean and simple.
But there was nothing clean about tonight.
Timur’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “Zetas confirmed. East entrance. Four visible. Probably more inside.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. Los Zetas. The rogue faction that had splintered from the main cartel after that Yucatan bloodbath. Desperate men. Hungry for money and revenge. They wanted Sebastian for the crypto scam he’d pulled, the fake data packages, the torched offshore accounts. Millions gone. Their pride shattered.
We wanted him for Barbara. For her mother. For every bruise, every threat, every sleepless night she’d endured.
Strange bedfellows, Bratva and Zetas. But Vladimir had taught me long ago—sometimes you work with your enemies to destroy a mutual threat. Then you settle old scores later.
Tonight, we had a deal.
Drew fell in step beside me as we moved through the alley. His breath was steady, controlled. Combat-trained muscle and tech-genius brain wrapped in tailored violence. “You good?” he murmured.
“Perfect,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie. For the first time in weeks, everything felt crystal clear. No doubt. No hesitation. Sebastian had taken enough from Barbara. From me. From everyone he’d ever touched with his poison. Tonight, that ended.
The warehouse loomed ahead—three stories of crumbling brick and shattered windows. Graffiti covered the walls, gang tags layered over corporate logos from when this place had actually produced something other than nightmares. Now it was just another grave waiting to be filled.
Gunfire erupted before we reached the door.
Zetas had already moved in. I heard shouting in Spanish, the sharp crack of pistols, the deeper boom of shotguns. Screams. Glass shattering. Timur grinned beside me, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Sounds like the party started without us.”
“Then let’s crash it.”
