Me: Is Aleksander with you?
I wait sixty agonizingly long seconds to get a response.
Pyotr: Just boarded the helicopter.
Aleksander houses an Airbus H160 and a Gulfstream G600 at the private airfield, two hangars down from ours.
Me: Wait for us.
Pyotr: I’m not supposed to tell you anything. He wants to handle this himself. I tried to convince him otherwise. Sorry, Syn. I promise not to leave his side. He won’t be alone in this. You have my word.
Fuck that. I call Pyotr’s number, but he doesn’t pick up. I try to call Aleksander. Same result.Goddammit, Aleksander!
The guys start arguing. Fénix starts crying. And images of strangling Aleksander with my bare hands run rampant through my chaotic thoughts.
How can the world go to shit in thirty minutes?
I call the one person I know who will be able to get me the information I need.
“Hey, cuz. What’s up?” Andie answers, the sound of Sarah’s laughter in the background.
“I need your help.”
Thirty-Six
There’sa swiftswooplow in my stomach when we lift off the ground, and I watch through the window as the town of Darlington spreads out below us as we ascend to eight hundred feet.
Pyotr taps his phone against his knee. “I don’t think it was a good idea to piss off your wife. If you haven’t noticed, she gets a little stabby when she’s mad,” his voice crackles through the headset.
I can’t get rid of the wide-eyed, terrified look she had on her face when I touched her, right before she bolted, like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Taking out my frustration on him, I snap, “She’s not my fucking wife.”
“I don’t know what happened between you and Syn this morning?—”
“Nothing happened.”
And nothingwillhappen. Ever. She’s made that very clear. I’m just the dumbass who keeps wishing for a different outcome. There’s a famous saying: “The definition ofinsanityis doingthe same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” That’s me.
“—but don’t let your emotions make rash decisions that could get you killed.”
“I’m not.”
After all the planning and strategizing, we were no closer to figuring out a plan to take Viktor down. He was too insulated and too protected to get anywhere near him. So, when Drako got word that he arrived in Boston this morning for a meeting, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity slip past me. And I wasn’t going to wait around and waste time arguing about it with Tristan.
Pyotr turns in his seat. “You know I will always follow wherever you lead.”
“I know.” And I appreciate it more than I will ever be able to express to him. He’s my best friend, but he’s also my family in every true sense of the word.
“But I think you’re making a mistake shutting them out,” he quickly adds.
“Duly noted.”
He huffs out a sigh that comes over the earpiece as loud static. “Tristan deserves his pound of flesh from Viktor just as much as you do.”
I send Pyotr a look of caution to watch what he says. The pilot, Misha, is one of Drako’s close associates. He can’t hear our conversation while his headset is in isolation mode, but I wouldn’t know if he turned it back to the intercom system. My personal business is just that—none of his fucking business.
I glance at Misha’s profile to make sure he’s not eavesdropping. I’m assured that he isn’t when I see his lips moving as he talks to air traffic control.
