"What's happening?" Vivika asks quietly. I can sense the fear in her tone. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe." I reach over and take her hand again, needing the contact as much as I suspect she does. "The townhouse isn't secure anymore. We're moving to a safehouse on the north side of the city, somewhere Yaros can't reach you."
"And then what?"
"And then we end this." I squeeze her fingers gently. "There's a plan, Vivika. A way to bring down Yaros and protect you at the same time. But it requires you to do something difficult, something that will demand everything you've learned since I took you."
"What is it?" Her fingers are trembling, but she's not pulling away.
"A meeting with Luka Kolar, head of the Balkan Syndicate. You'll play Ana one more time, tell him everything Yaros has done, and convince him to break all ties with the Veches." I glance over at her. "It's risky. If something goes wrong?—"
"I'll do it." That fast response is something I wasn't ready for. "If it means ending this nightmare, so I can stop looking over my shoulder every second of every day, I'll do whatever you need me to do."
Hearing her confirm again that she's not quitting on me makes my confidence soar. Whatever Inessa told her about things must've helped. The Vivika who ran out of Yuri's war room was a shattered mess, but she's not giving up yet. I squeeze her hand and accelerate. If Yaros has put out orders to kill her, we really do have to get away from here and into that safe house where I can control things better.
The rain intensifies as we approach my street, sheets of water cascading down the windshield faster than the wipers can clear them. I slow down as I turn onto my block, and my instincts prickle with a warning. Something feels wrong—the street’s too quiet, the shadows too deep, like something's alive and hungry. I’d say I'm just paranoid, but Yuri did warn me the Veches are coming for her.
Then I see the car parked in front of my townhouse that doesn't belong on this street at all, and every nerve prickles. I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from swearing out loud.
"Stay low," I murmur to Vivika, pulling past my house and parking around the corner where we're hidden from direct view. "We have company."
"Company?" Her voice rises with fear. "Lev, what?—"
"Listen to me carefully." I turn in my seat and take her face in my hands, holding her gaze with an intensity I hope conveys the seriousness of what I'm about to say. "I'm going to put you somewhere safe they can't see you, and then I'm gonna deal with whoever's inside my house. You stay hidden until I come for you. Do you understand?"
"You want me to hide in the rain?" She sounds incredulous, almost offended. "Lev, that's insane, I should stay with you?—"
"Vivika." I cut her off with a firm shake of my hands that jars her head. "The car is a target. The house is a target. The only safe place right now is somewhere dark and hidden where nobody thinks to look. I need you to trust me on this."
My chest is heaving as adrenaline prepares me for what I might be facing. Who knows if it's a single hitter or if Yaros sent a team? I know they'll be professional, which makes it more risky, and I know Vivika waiting in this car is a stupid idea. She'll be a sitting duck.
Her eyes plead with me not to let this happen, but she nods and lets out a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, I trust you."
I guide her around the back of the property, staying low and using the rain as cover, until we reach a thick hedge that runsalong the fence line. Far from ideal—she'll be soaked and cold and terrified—but it's better than the alternatives. I push her gently into the shadows behind the hedge and cup her face one more time.
"Stay here," I whisper against her forehead. "Stay quiet. I'll come back for you."
Then I turn and move toward the house, pulling my gun from its holster and letting the rain wash away any sound my footsteps might make. The back door has been forced open, the lock hanging loose and useless, and I slip inside with my weapon raised and my senses straining for any sign of the intruders waiting in the darkness.
I find the first one in the kitchen, a shadow moving between the counter and the refrigerator, and I put two bullets in his chest before he can raise his own weapon. The sound of gunfire explodes through the silent house, shattering the tension and announcing my presence to anyone else lurking in the rooms beyond.
A second man appears in the doorway to the living room, already firing, and I dive behind the kitchen island as bullets punch through the cabinets above my head. Splinters rain down on my shoulders and I return fire blindly, squeezing off rounds in the direction of his muzzle flash until I hear a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the floor.
Two down. But there could be more.
I move through the house room by room, clearing each space carefully as I listen to the house. I don't hear footsteps, but that doesn't mean I'm alone. The dining room is empty, the study undisturbed, but when I reach the hallway leading to thebedrooms, I hear movement ahead—the creak of a floorboard, the soft rustle of fabric.
I press myself against the wall and wait, letting my eyes adjust to the deeper darkness of the hall, and then a figure steps out of the shadows with a gun pointed directly at my head.
I react on instinct, knocking the weapon aside and slamming my elbow into his throat, but he's faster than I expected and his fist connects with my wounded side hard enough to send white-hot agony screaming through my entire body. I stagger, nearly lose my footing, and he presses his advantage with a kick that sends me crashing into the wall.
His gun comes up again and I'm staring down the barrel, waiting for the shot that'll end everything, when the dim light of a car driving past illuminates his face and recognition crashes through me.
Tyrak.
One of my own men?
He's standing in my hallway with a gun aimed at my skull, and the expression on his face is cold resignation.
