Though I didn’t show it, I was shocked. Betrayal did indeed fester from within. Though he said he’d heard things, I hadn’t expected him to already have names.
Viktor leaned on the table, resting on his fingertips. “You will need ten men. Minimum.”
“Twenty,” I corrected. “And they need to be ones who won’t hesitate for a second.”
He grinned, wolf-sharp. “Ah. You plan to bring hell home to America with you.”
I didn’t smile. “Hell is already there. I’m just bringing the blowtorch and the flames.”
Hours later, after meetings and selections with blood oaths whispered like prayers, I shut myself in a room. Bare walls. Iron bed. My old space.
Exhausted to the bone, I dialed Sofia. She didn’t answer, and I looked at my watch, realizing I hadn’t slept since arriving and I’d completely lost sense of time.
I wondered if she was sleeping or afraid. She might not be happy about it, but I knew Archer would be pacing the hall like a guard dog, which was what I was paying him good money to do.
As I took my jacket off and tossed it on the small mattress, I imagined her curled on my bed, holding my pillow to her nose, smelling me like a safety tether.
In my mind, I pictured her one day with her hand resting on her rounded belly as she waited to feel a soft kick under her hand. Our child. My child.
And for the first time in years, my chest ached in a way no bullet had ever accomplished.
I left a voicemail—rare for me, but necessary.
“Listen to Archer. Tell him if anything feels wrong, and he will take you underground. I know you think I’m harsh. I know you think I drag shadows behind me and into your world. But I swear to you, Sofia… I will return with enough fire to burn down anything that threatens us. So just breathe… and stay mine.”
I hung up.
Outside, men trained in the snow—fists slamming through cold air, discipline etched into their bones. This was nothing new. My uncle believed in always being prepared.
A war was already brewing. I’d been afraid it was, but after the shooting, I was certain.
And someone—Armenian or brother—followed her.
Soon, I would know who.
Soon, they would beg for mercy that I did not possess.
Chapter 3
Sofia
Archer checked the windows. Did tactical-looking things that I didn’t understand. Posted himself facing the sliding glass door but tried to make it look casual.
Curled up on the couch with a book I couldn’t seem to focus on, I watched him, my nerves frayed.
Then—
A flicker outside caught my attention.
A glint from a building across the street.
A camera lens? A reflection?
Certain I was being paranoid, I got up and stepped closer to the window—Archer grabbed my arm and pulled me back gently but firmly.
“Don’t stand near the glass,” he said quietly. “Someone’s out there.”
“Maybe it’s just a person who lives over there. Maybe they lit a cigarette or something,” I rationalized. Yet inside, my heartbeat thundered. Did he know something I didn’t? Or had he seen something more than I had? Maybe he was simply being precautious.
