“Ah-ah,” Benoit said sharply, turning just enough to cut her a look. “You might save one, Kiki. But not both.”
Benoit’s eyes glittered with triumph when the woman pulled Markos closer to stand several feet behind him. Nikos’s eyes locked with his brother’s for a fleeting second. In his ear, Angel cursed that he didn’t have a clear shot of the woman.
“My companion and I both have biometric detonators attached to our bodies. If my heart so much as stutters for more than a second, the explosives attached to me will explode. I fear your dear Nikos would be the first to fall. The same goes for his dear brother. What is your choice, little one? You, your lover, or the brother? Who will you choose?”
“Everyone, stand down. IED positive,” Nikos warned, slowly lowering his weapon.
They stood locked in a triangle of tension. Kiki curled her fingers into a fist behind Nikos while Benoit stood in front with a confident, smug curve to his lips. She flexed her fingers.
Her breath slowed as she waited. Timing would be everything. She could feel Benoit’s energy, his confidence, his arrogance. He truly believed he would win.
But he didn’t know her anymore.
Not the woman she had become.
Not the strength forged from years of surviving the hell he’d created.
She took a step forward.
Benoit’s eyes tracked her like a predator watching a wounded animal. She saw his lips part—ready to speak, to seduce, to deceive.
She paused when Nikos reached out, his hand closing gently around her forearm.
She looked at him.
The fierce protectiveness in his eyes stole her breath. His jaw clenched, his entire frame drawn taut with tension. She lifted her hand and brushed her fingers across his lips. A soft smile curved her mouth as she pushed calm through their bond, reassurance blooming like golden light between them.
He kissed the tips of her fingers, a silent promise:I trust you.
Benoit’s voice slithered through the air like smoke. “Such a tender moment,” he drawled. “But I’m afraid we have business to finish. Olga, take the brother to the car.”
The woman beside Markos pressed the barrel tighter to his temple.
Kiki turned to Benoit. Her voice, when it came, was steady. “No.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you remember what happens to those who disobey me, Kiki? Do you remember the pain?”
“I do,” she replied, lifting her chin. “But there’s one thing you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh?” His tone was condescending. “Do enlighten me.”
“I’m no longer a child under your control,” she said, her voice ringing like a bell in the charged air. “And I’m not the only one here with extraordinary abilities.”
A shimmer danced in the space between them.
RITA materialized—combat boots, fatigues, her fiery-red braid swinging as she strode through Benoit’s form like an apparition. He flinched, the shock finally cracking his calm. RITA kept walking.
The gun woman’s eyes widened. She jerked instinctively, turning her pistol on the strange woman?—
Markos moved the second the weapon was redirected away from his head. He grabbed the woman’s arm at the same time as RITA touched the woman. Markos’s fingers jerked back when the woman was lifted off the ground by the powerful jolt that struck her in the chest. Kiki watched with a tinge of amusement as the woman soared backwards like a rag doll before landing in a crumpled heap on the ground.
“Oops, I’m bad,” RITA said, flashing a grin at Kiki as she winked. “Are you okay, luv?”
“What the fu—?” Markos muttered, shaking his arm and flexing his fingers from the residual shock.
“No—!” Benoit roared.
Kiki shook her head at Benoit, her eyes gleaming as she stepped forward. Benoit’s eyes widened with fury. His mouth tightened.
