"You did good," I tell her.
She nods, swallows hard, doesn't lower the weapon. "Where now?"
"Out. We need to—"
A door bangs open on the far side of the warehouse.
Sergei.
He's flanked by four men, all armed, all moving with the desperate urgency of rats fleeing a sinking ship. He sees me at the same moment I see him—and for one frozen instant, our eyes meet across the warehouse floor.
Then he runs.
"Get her out," I tell the men who've caught up with us. "Get her to the extraction point. I'll handle Sergei."
"Misha—" Bianca grabs my arm. "Don't. Just come with me. We can—"
"He'll never stop." I cup her face in my hands, force her to meet my eyes. "As long as he's alive, he'll keep coming. For you, for me, for everything we have. I have to end this."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Misha—"
I kiss her. Hard, desperate, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. When I pull back, her eyes are bright with tears.
"Go," I tell her. "I'll find you. I promise."
I don't wait for her response. I'm already running, chasing Sergei through the warehouse, past burning crates and fallen bodies, into the smoke and chaos of the night.
I find him in the courtyard.
He's alone now—his men either dead or fled. He's standing in the middle of the open space, weapon drawn, waiting for me. The compound is burning around us, flames licking at the sky, smoke billowing in thick black clouds.
"Kashkin." He says my name like a curse. "I knew you'd come."
"Then you knew how this would end."
"Did I?" He laughs—a hollow, bitter sound. "I had such plans for you. For her. I was going to make you watch whileI took everything from you, piece by piece. Your empire. Your woman. Your life."
"You failed."
"Did I?" His smile is thin, cruel. "You might have gotten her back, but at what cost? How many men did you lose tonight? How many families destroyed because you couldn't protect one woman?"
I don't answer. I don't need to.
"She was supposed to be mine, you know." Sergei's eyes gleam in the firelight. "I had an arrangement with her father. Bianca was promised to me—payment for services rendered. And then you waltzed into that auction and outbid me like I was nothing."
"You should have bid higher."
"I shouldn't have had to bid at all!" The composure cracks, rage bleeding through. "She was mine. Bought and paid for. And you stole her from me."
"I didn't steal anything. I won."
"You cheated me." He raises his weapon, matching mine. "You humiliated me in front of everyone who matters. Made me look weak. Made me look like a fool."
"You did that yourself."
