Too sloppy for Armenians. Too rushed.
I didn’t wait for the man who had joined me. Knowing he would catch up, I took the metal stairs two at a time, hit the ground floor, and saw the chaos unfolding in the courtyard—two masked men down, one alive and screaming, bleeding out where one of my men had pinned him to the ground with a machete.
Sofia was nowhere in sight. Good. Archer had followed protocol.
I crossed the distance in seconds, gun trained on the man’s head. “Who sent you?”
He laughed, bloody, raspy, and hysterical. “You already know.”
I pressed the barrel harder to the center of his forehead. “Say it.”
He spat blood as he snarled at me. “Boris Volkov.”
There it was.
Clear. Clean. Undeniable.
Slowly, I stood, the rage inside me going still and silent in a way that only happened when something snapped. When clarity reigned. I was done. I was going after Boris.
“Get him secured,” I ordered one of the Russian men. “Alive.”
A shadow moved at the edge of the courtyard.
“Don’t shoot,” a voice called out. Calm. Familiar. One I hadn’t heard in some time.
Arman stepped into the light. He was one of the top Armenian hitmen. A shadow himself.
Archer swung his weapon toward him instantly, but I lifted a hand. “Stand down.”
Sofia watched from the upper window, eyes sharp, unflinching. Dammit, I didn’t want her to be a part of any of this. She was supposed to be in the panic room—safe. Archer and I were going to speak about this. Later.
Arman raised his hands—not in surrender. A gesture of intent.
“I told you I’d come when it mattered,” he said.
“You should’ve come sooner,” I replied. “You could have stopped your men before they got… dead.”
He nodded once. “I know. But these are not my men. Nor are they Tavit’s. Before you ask, I’m also insulted that you thought I would work with the likes of that.”
I frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand then.”
“Perhaps we should speak somewhere… a little more private,” Arman murmured.
We spoke alone in the war room.
“I didn’t take the second shot on Boris,” Arman said. “I wouldn’t have missed and Boris would be dead if it had been me. I warned the Armenians. We warned Boris, but he didn’t listen. He never does when he thinks he’s clever.”
“He sent men to kill her,” I spat flatly.
“Yes.” Arman’s jaw tightened. “He wanted it clean. Public. A car. Something that screamed Armenian chaos. When that failed, he panicked. That wasn’t me either. A car isn’t my style.”
“Yeah, well, he underestimated her,” I replied, though it was thanks to Archer that the car attack had been unsuccessful.
“And you,” Arman added. “He thought losing her would make you obedient again.”
A slow, dangerous smile touched my mouth. “He’s about to learn what his insane desire for my obedience costs.”
Arman leaned forward. “He’s preparing to disappear. New passports. New accounts. He believes you’ll be too busy retaliating against the Armenians to notice that he’s been up to something.”
