Max leaves me alone in our apartment after a workout, going to take a meeting. I ask to be included, but he adamantly says I’m not ready, which leaves me in afoulfucking mood. He’s going to be discussing plans for my sister—plans that will either secure her safety or fail and result in her death—and he doesn’t have the decency to let me join talks. Me, the girl who’s spent the last five years killing myself to protect Alina.
At least he leaves me with a new laptop that has internet, but unfortunately, it’s steeply restricted. I can only browse certain online stores, and when I try to typeknivesinto Amazon, I get a message flashing across the screen, flashingbad girl; that’s one. When I try again, the count goes up to two.
Prick.
I’m not much of a shopper—probably because I’ve never had an opportunity to be—but I make a point to buy a bunch of useless but expensive stuff. I order myself designer clothes that I doubt I’ll ever wear, lingerie that runs at 500 dollars per bra and pantie set, and then get antique artwork forthe walls.
It’s petty and probably useless revenge, but it makes me feel slightly better about the situation. I don’t have much power here, but at least I still have the ability to be passive-aggressive and piss off Max.
Only itdoesn’tpiss off Max. At all. When he returns two hours later, he’s wearing a wide, goofy grin that immediately pissesmeoff.
“What’s your problem?” I demand.
“Just got a 30k bill on my card,” he replies.
I give him a saccharine smile. “Hope you don’t mind. I haven’t gotten to shop inforever.”
“Not at all. I saw that some of the charges were for lingerie; you should probably get three or four pairs of each, since I’m bound to rip them off of you.”
I blink. “Are youhappythat I spentthirty thousand dollars without asking?” Dagon might’ve actually killed me if I pulled that shit with him.
“I’m rich. Spend however much ofour moneyyou want. Maybe give me a heads up first, though; I got a very concerned call from the guy who handles my bank accounts. He thought there was fraud going on.”
I glare at him. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. Wanna know why?”
“No.”
“Because I just mobilized the unit that’s gonna save your sister, and you’re going to be in the room when they go in to kill Dagon’s guys.” He checks his watch. “Which is happening in about two hours.”
Cain, Greyson, and Tobias are also all in the room when Max takes me there a few hours later. My heart thuds so rapidly in my ribcage, it’s like the wings of a hummingbird.
The room itself is the ultimate command center. The walls are made up of screens from floor to ceiling. There’s a large roundtable covered in computer monitors, keyboards, and maps. The tableitselfis digital, displaying a map of the area where my sister lives—in a college dorm near her university.
“Viper,” Cain greets, giving me a sharp yet disinterested once-over. “Sit.”
I don’t argue. I’m too anxious to see what’s going on, so I take a seat in one of the office chairs, tucking one leg beneath me, and fold my hands in my lap, digging my nails into my flesh so hard it hurts.
Max drops into the seat beside me, picks up my hand in his own, and twines our fingers together, resting our hands on my knee. My breath hitches at the gesture of support. Any other time, I’d shake off his hand, but I need the comfort right now. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin—the stakes haveneverbeen this high for me. Risking my life? Easy, no problem. Riskingherlife?
Never. I’d rather die a thousand agonizing deaths than watch her get a papercut, let alone be the cause of her losing her life.
And, if this fails… I have no fallback. I have tobegMax to let me go back to Dagon, because I haven’t done my due diligence. I don’t have the faintest fucking clue of how to successfully escape from here on such short notice.
“Two minutes,” Toby says, flicking his gaze over to me. It lingers for just a beat too long before it returns to his computer. He types something on the keyboards, dons a headset, and suddenly, the screens on the walls all light up at once. One wall shows a comprehensive street map of the college campus and surrounding areas, several placesglowing red, with names and numbers atop them. Another shows footage from street cameras, and another that looks like bodycams, presumably belonging to the Nighthawks going in.
“Eight targets,” Tobias says into the headset. “That’s two for each of you, boys. Now, don’t get greedy; let everyone have their share of fun. Got it?” Whoever he’s talking to must say something funny, because he chuckles. “Keep it in your pants for now. Alright. Priority number one is to knock out tech—if Dagon knows we’re here, shit gets a whole lot harder. Osborn, are you in position?” he pauses. “Good. Keep eyes on her. If anything happens, I’ll skin you.”
My eyes sharpen on Toby. He’s obviously talking about Alina, and the note of propriety in his tone raises my alarm bells, but I’m quickly distracted as the bodycams start rushing forward. My eyes flick from screen to screen as the guys wearing them break down doors, raise guns, and fire. I imagine the noise is deafening, but none of it comes through. I fixate on one Nighthawk—the one whose location is closest to Alina’s—and watch as he’s disarmed by his opponent.
Dagon’s men aren’t easy targets.
Thank fucking God, it seems the Nighthawks actually are well trained and know what they’re doing; three of the targets go down within ten seconds—and the fourth takes approximately three minutes in a knife-fight.
I’m reluctantly impressed.
Then, one of the guys wearing a body cam gets knocked to his back and jerks. Toby shouts something into the microphone as blood splatters the screen, and the footage goes grainy. My heart speeds up even more—all of Dagon’s men need to die or they’ll send out distress signals to their bosses, and that’ll be the end of any hope for Alina. Dagon will kill her just to prove the point to me, and then he’ll do fuck knows what with me.
