The guards at the door raise their weapons.
Nikolai laughs. "Feisty. I like that."
He grabs her wrist. The left one.
He pulls her hand up. He looks at her fingers.
"No wedding ring," he notes. "But a tan line where one used to be? Or where oneshouldbe?"
He twists her arm. She cries out.
"Let her go!" I roar into the mic, slamming the van door open. I sprint down the alleyway, the rifle in my hands. "Ivy, drop him! Use the knife!"
"Who sent you?" Nikolai demands, his grip tightening. "The Feds? Or... Vane?"
Ivy looks him in the eye.
"I sent myself," she spits.
She moves.
It’s exactly what I taught her in the snow. She drops her center of gravity. She stomps on his instep with her boot.
Nikolai grunts, surprised. His grip loosens for a fraction of a second.
Ivy rips her arm free.
She reaches under her jacket. She draws the ceramic knife.
She slashes.
It’s not a kill shot, but it’s vicious. The blade cuts across Nikolai’s white tuxedo jacket, slicing through the fabric and into the flesh of his chest.
Blood—bright red against the white silk—sprays instantly.
"Bitch!" Nikolai roars, staggering back, clutching his chest.
"Kill her!" he screams to the guards.
"NO!" I scream.
The guards raise their submachine guns.
Suddenly, the lights in the vault die.
Total blackness.
I hit the kill switch on the building’s grid from my phone as I run.
"Run, Ivy!" I command. "Night vision is offline for them! Use the dark!"
I hear chaos in the earpiece. Gunshots. Shouting.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
"Silas!" Ivy screams. "I’m in the hall! I can't see!"
"Turn right!" I yell, bursting through the back service entrance of the pavilion. I shoot the guard at the door before he can even turn around. "Run toward the fire exit! I’m coming to you!"
