For a moment, there was nothing but silence. A ringing in my ears, a stunned, disorienting quiet that was more terrifying than the noise itself. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning plastic and chemicals.
Then Lev moved.
His face was a mask of pure rage. Blood poured from his nose, a thick, steady flow that stained his white shirt and dripped onto his trousers. He didn’t seem to feel the pain, or if he did, he was channeling it into a cold, deadly focus.
His eyes, dark and fathomless, met mine. He reached for me, his movements swift and confident. I flinched, expecting a blow, but he just ripped the tape from my mouth. It stung, but I barely registered it. He followed with the gag, pulling the soaked lace from my mouth with a rough, impatient tug. I took a gasping, ragged breath, the air tasting of smoke and his blood.
Then he reached behind me, his fingers fumbling with the cuffs. The lock clicked open, and the pressure on my wrists was gone.
I rubbed them instinctively, my skin tingling as circulation returned. Awkwardly, I pulled down my dress while he dabbed at his nose with his thumb, smearing the blood across his face. “What the hell was that for?”
“You’re lucky we’re alive, you asshole!What do you think I was trying to get your attention for?” I shot back, my voice hoarse. I gestured with a trembling hand toward the gaping hole in the skyscraper, where flames still licked up into the sky. “Someone was trying to kill us!”
Before he could reply, we became aware of a cacophony of sound. Sirens and screams, a chorus of them, growing louder by the second. A minute later, flashing lights painted the shatteredinterior of the Maybach in strobing shades of blue and red. We were trapped.
“Shit,” he muttered. He looked at me, his expression hardening. “We play this cool. We’re just a couple in a car crash. Don’t say a word unless I tell you to.”
I nodded, a short, quick jerk of my head. It was the smart play. The only play.
The first police officer on the scene was a young man with wide, shocked eyes. He peered into the wreckage. “Are you two okay?”
“We’re fine,” Lev said in a low, commanding growl, despite the blood still streaming from his nose. “Just a little shaken up.”
The officer’s gaze fell on me, then on Lev, taking in our disheveled state, the blood, the sheer opulence of the ruined car. He radioed for an ambulance, his voice tight with professional concern. We were helped out of the car, the shock of hot air startling against my skin. The scene was a nightmare of twisted metal, shattered glass, and the pungent smell of smoke. People were shouting, other officers were securing the area, a crowd was starting to gather, their faces a blur of morbid curiosity.
They separated us. A female officer led me to an ambulance, wrapping a shock blanket around my shoulders. She asked me questions, but my answers were vague, my mind a fog of adrenaline and shock. I told her my name was Amelia Brooks, and that I was just a tourist visiting Dubai. I told her we’d been on our way back from breakfast when a car ran a red light. It was a flimsy story, but it was all I had.
Lev was being questioned by a senior officer, his posture radiating a controlled fury that was somehow more intimidating than any outburst could have been. I could see the tension in hisjaw, the way his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He was a king in a cage, and he was not happy about it.
We were taken to the police station for questioning. I was put in an interrogation room all by myself. I sat on the hard wooden chair, the shock blanket still wrapped around my shoulders, and watched the minutes tick by on the wall clock.
Finally, the door opened. A man in a well-tailored suit stood there, a look of weary professionalism on his face. He was not police. He was someone else.
“Ms. Brooks?” he said, his voice a low, smooth baritone. “My name is Ethan. I’m your legal counsel.”
I stared at him. “I didn’t call a lawyer.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said. “Your… benefactor… has taken care of everything.”
I followed him out of the cell and down a long, sterile corridor. Then he led me out of police headquarters, where there was a car waiting for me outside.
I got into the backseat, and a few seconds later, he started the car and then drove away.
“They won’t find the car you were in. Or the truck you collided with,” he explained. “They won’t find any records of a crash. They won’t even remember you were there. By tomorrow, this will all be a bad dream.”
I looked at him, my mind a whirlwind of questions. “Who are you?”
He gave me a thin, professional smile. “I’m the man who cleans up messes. ARCHEON sends their regards.”
He drove me tothe marina, where I was escorted to a luxurious yacht in the harbor.
“Get some rest,” he said. “You’ll be contacted tomorrow.”
I stood in the middle of the back deck, watching as he walked away.
I was free from Lev, but I was still ARCHEON’s prisoner. The walls of thisboatwere just as much a cage as the Maybach had been.
CHAPTER 9
