“One more step and she dies, Zotov,” Moretti threatened, pressing his gun against Shorty’s temple.
Fuck.
I held my position, face impassive despite the rage burning inside me. “You won’t get that chance.”
Shorty locked eyes with me across the distance—recognition, relief, then determination flashing in their depths. The yacht lurched violently with another wave, momentarily throwing Moretti off-balance.
She seized the moment, drove her elbow back into his solar plexus with surprising force, before she sank down.
I didn’t hesitate—my shot hit Moretti’s shoulder, making him drop his weapon with a howl of pain. I covered the distance in seconds, reached Shorty as Moretti collapsed against the railing.
“Ivan,” she breathed, launching herself into my arms with unexpected force.
I caught her instinctively, one arm securing her while the other kept my weapon trained on Moretti. Even though there was no need since Birdie was already on him. She moved quickly to secure Moretti’s wrists despite his howls of pain.
“I knew you’d come,” Shorty whispered against my neck, her body trembling against mine.
“I love you,” she said suddenly, fiercely pulling back to look into my eyes. “I know this is early and kind of out of the blue, but I love you.”
The words hit harder than any physical blow, and I was momentarily stunned. Of course, she’d steal my moment—I’d been planning to tell her first. But before I could reply, she gripped my shoulders with unexpected urgency.
“Ivan, there’s something you need to know about Grey,” she said, her voice dropping to ensure only I could hear. “Nina and I went for the files on his computer.”
I narrowed my eyes. They went for the files on Grey’s computer? The one in his office?
She grabbed my shoulders. “Grey was most likely running an underground fighting ring. The one where he had kids fight each other, the one where you…”
The world tilted beneath my feet. My body went rigid as her words registered. “What?” The word escaped as barely a whisper.
“Oh, God, I mean, I didn’t even ask. I just thought after the story you told me. Grey and probably Uncle Marcus were behind it all. The Paraskia Syndicate rescued those kids, but Grey—he orchestrated everything. He’s the one responsible for torturing those kids. The files on his computer. There’s proof. He’s been manipulating everything from the beginning. And then pretending to be the savior.”
My vision narrowed to a pinpoint, blood rushing in my ears. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of loyalty to the man who had created that hell, who had forced children to fight like animals. Who had broken us, then pretended to save us. Every mission. Every kill. Every sacrifice. All in service to my tormentor?
Isabella’s hands framed my face, forcing me to focus on her. “Was that you? Were you that boy?”
I nodded.
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
A distant part of my mind registered gunfire erupting from the opposite side of the yacht. I shielded Shorty with my body as bullets pinged against metal nearby, the protective motion pure instinct while my mind was still reeling from her revelation. Could it really be?
Of course it could.
Two rapid shots rang out, then my comm crackled to life.
“We’re near your location. Don’t shoot at us. Do you have eyes on Grey’s boat?” Anton’s voice was distorted by static.
I scanned the choppy waters but couldn’t locate the second vessel. “Negative. Maybe they’re boarding on the other side. Hawk?”
“I don’t have eyes on. But I’ve managed to land on the heli-pad,” Hawk responded. “Just waiting to bring you back.”
“Coming to you,” Anton confirmed.
I checked with Birdie. “Moretti secure?”
She nodded and yanked the restraints tighter, eliciting another pained cry from our captive.
Marcus Moretti, Grey’s business partner. Had he been involved, as well?
