“No. But I can promise that whatever happens tomorrow, we face it together.” I press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Tony. And neither are you.”
He pulls me back against his chest and holds me like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored to the present. I can feel his heart beating beneath my cheek, strong and steady despite the fear still coursing through him.
We stay wrapped around each other in the darkness, not sleeping, not talking. Just breathing together and holding on.
Tomorrow we walk into Adrian’s trap and spring one of our own.
But tonight, we have this.
36
Tony
The warehouse looks abandoned from the outside, but I count three guards on the roof and two more flanking the main entrance.
Sasha and I approach on foot, just as we planned. No vehicles. No visible weapons. Just two people who look beaten and desperate, ready to negotiate terms of surrender. We’ve rehearsed this moment a dozen times since leaving the hotel this morning, but rehearsal never quite captures the reality of walking toward men who want you dead.
One of the rooftop guards speaks into a radio as we cross the empty parking lot. The asphalt is cracked, and weeds push through in patches, signs of a building that stopped mattering to anyone years ago. By the time we reach the entrance, four more men have materialized from the shadows. All of them armed. All of them watching us like we’re prey walking willingly into a trap.
Which, from their perspective, we are.
“Hands where we can see them,” the largest guard orders. “Both of you.”
We comply without argument. Two of the guards pat us down while the others keep their weapons trained on our chests. The search is thorough, and they confiscate Sasha’s phone and my wallet before stepping back.
“Mr. Belmont is expecting you,” the lead guard announces. “Follow me. Try anything stupid, and we’ll put bullets in both of you.”
We follow him through a rusted metal door and into the warehouse proper. The interior is cavernous and mostly empty, with concrete floors stained by decades of industrial use. Old machinery sits abandoned along the walls, covered in dust and cobwebs. A makeshift office has been constructed in the far corner using shipping containers and plywood walls. Someone has strung work lamps along the ceiling, which makes the concrete glow yellow.
I note the exits as we walk. There’s a main entrance behind us and a loading dock on the south wall, currently chained shut. An emergency exit is near the shipping container office, and somewhere in the back, the door Adrian will try to use when things go wrong.
Adrian emerges from the office as we approach, and I have to force myself not to recoil from his appearance.
He looks like death.
The wound from Thornfield has clearly become infected. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his skin has taken on a grayish pallor that screams fever. As he moves, he’s stiff and careful, suggesting every step causes him pain. The confident predator Imet in Knightsbridge has been replaced by something wounded and feral.
But his eyes are bright with something that goes beyond illness. Obsession has consumed whatever was left of the man I first met.
Adrian’s voice comes out hoarse. “Tony and Sasha. I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see either of you again so soon. Not after what happened at my estate.”
“We need to talk,” I tell him.
“Talk?” Adrian lets out a laugh that turns into a cough. He presses a hand against his side where the wound must be, and his face contorts with pain. “You destroyed my home. Killed a dozen of my men. Cost me three of my coalition partners who decided the Kozlovs were too dangerous to antagonize. And now you want to talk?”
“I want to end this before anyone else gets hurt.”
Adrian eyes me for a long moment. His guards have formed a loose circle around us, close enough to intervene but far enough to give their boss room to conduct his business. I count eight total, not including the ones outside. Boris’s team can handle them, but only if the breach goes perfectly.
Adrian turns his attention to Sasha. “And what about you, my dear? Have you come to apologize for your dramatic little speech? All that nonsense about cages and trophies?”
Sasha lowers her gaze and forces a tremor into her voice. “I’ve come to accept your terms.”
Adrian’s eyebrows shoot up, and something hungry moves across his face. For a moment, he looks almost healthy again,animated by the possibility that his obsession might finally be satisfied.
“My terms,” he repeats. “You mean...”
Sasha wraps her arms around herself in a gesture of defeat. “I’ll come with you. Voluntarily. Whatever you want. Just call off your coalition and leave my family alone.”
