Arseny Zakharov. Another Sovereign General. Buzzed head, thick scar slicing down his jaw. He’s perched like he owns the place—feet propped up on a desk, smoke curling from a half-dead cigarette.
“Your sorry ass get roped into this mess too, Arsen?” I sneer, strolling past him. “Or did they promise you the best little Sovereign Slut to suck your dick if you play nice?”
He grins without humor. “Nyet. Something better. I get to babysit you.”
I flip him off and shoulder past to Raze’s station.
Arsen may be a prick, but I’ll admit it—he’s lethal. Former FSB with a kill count that makes most Sovereigns look like toddlers with plastic knives. He recruits monsters. Trains them. Unleashes them.
And I’ve seen what he does to recruits who don’t pass inspection.
He hates Sterling almost as much as I do. Not that he’ll ever make a move. Arsen’s loyal to power. Doesn’t matter whose dick it’s attached to.
“Fucker,” Raze grunts without looking at me. “I told you to stay home. These guys? They’re clean. Pro-level. Whoever planned this wasn’t fucking around.”
“I don’t take orders from you. And I sure as fuck don’t take orders from that geriatric cunt.”
“I’m sure he loves when you call him that,” Arsen smirks, flicking ash on the floor.
Raze taps a few keys, and the main screen lights up with grainy security footage from the warehouse. He starts breaking down gear specs and caliber types, talking quickly. At the same time, Arsen throws out names of possible suppliers.
I should be listening, dissecting the threat like I’m trained to.
But I’m not.
I’m thinking about her.
About the burner phone I lifted from her, still tucked in my coat pocket. I should’ve killed her tonight. But instead, I stripped her. Tied her. Used her.
I don’t even know her fucking name.
That ends now.
Tossing all my shit onto a desk, I drop into a chair. As Raze and Arsen bicker over suppliers, I pull the cracked phone from my pocket. It’s so old it wheezes to life.
I plug it into the computer, fingers twitching. The screen flickers and lags. A fucking relic.
But when the data loads?—
My blood snaps.
My jaw grinds so hard my molars threaten to shatter.
A slow, razor-sharp grin carves across my face.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Arsen asks, pausing mid-argument when he catches the look in my eye.
I don’t answer. Just stare at the screen.
The burn under my skin is molten. My fingers twitch over the keyboard, but I don’t click anything. Not yet. Because if I do, I’ll rip the entire room apart. I’ll put a bullet through the monitor, through every tech, through Arsen just for fucking breathing near me.
She’s fucking dead.
I stand, the chair screeching across the concrete. The phone’s still hooked up, but I don’t need to see more. I’ve seen enough to end her.
But death?
Too easy.
