"Why can't you just stay dead?" he asks sardonically. "I put a bullet in you at that bus station and you survived. Now here you are again, refusing to die like a sensible person."
The bus station.
The shooting that tore through my side and nearly killed me on the roadside.
That wasn't Veche soldiers at all—it was Tyrak, one of my own, hiding among the chaos and taking his shot when he thought no one would notice or suspect.
"How long?" I manage through gritted teeth, my hand inching toward the knife strapped to my ankle. "How long have you been working for Yaros?"
"Long enough." Tyrak shrugs casually, but he hasn't pulled the trigger. This is personal to him, not just a hit. "He pays better than your uncle, and he's going to win this war. Backing the winning side isn't betrayal, Lev. It's just good business."
"It's mutiny." My fingers close around the handle of the knife and I bide my time. "You've sold out your family, your brothers, everyone who ever trusted you with their lives."
"Spare me the lecture." His finger tightens on the trigger. "I've heard enough Gravitch honor speeches to last a lifetime. Now hold still and let me finish what I started."
I move before he can fire, hurling the knife with every ounce of strength I have left. The blade catches him in the shoulder—a wounding blow rather than a killing one, but enough to throw off his aim as his shot goes wide and punches through the wall beside my head. I'm on him in an instant, driving my fist into his wounded shoulder and tearing the knife free in a spray of blood that paints the hallway walls.
He screams and drops his gun, clutching at the wound, and I kick the weapon away before pressing the bloody knife against his throat. We're both breathing hard, bleeding. But I know I have the advantage. Tyrak isn't trained for this, and I am.
"Please," Tyrak gasps, his eyes wide with sudden terror. "Lev, please, I was just?—"
"You were just following orders?" I press the blade harder, watching a thin line of red appear beneath the steel. "You were just doing what Yaros paid you to do. You're a fool."
"I can give you information. I can tell you everything?—"
"I don't need your information." I have no sympathy for traitors. Yuri had no idea how bad this was getting, but if Yaros has someone inside the family, it means he's already started his war. "I needed your loyalty, and you sold that to the highest bidder."
I draw the knife across his throat in one swift motion, and Tyrak's pleas die in a gurgle of blood that spills down his chest and pools on the floor under him. He collapses against the wall and slides down slowly, eyes already going glassy, and I stand over his body and watch the life drain out of the man who betrayed everything I thought he stood for.
Then I wipe the blade clean on his shirt, retrieve my gun from where it fell during the fight, and listen to the sound of more footsteps overhead. No way I can keep fighting more of them, and so much for getting any of our things. We have to get out of here. Now.
20
VIVIKA
The rain soaks through my clothes and plasters my hair to my face as I huddle behind the hedge, straining to hear anything over the drumming of water against leaves and earth. Gunshots echoed from inside the house minutes ago, and then silence fell like a blanket, smothering everything beneath it.
I'm shivering so hard my teeth are chattering, my fingers numb where they grip the wet branches in front of me, and every shadow that moves in the storm makes my heart slam against my ribs. Lev told me to stay hidden and to trust him, but what if he's lying dead on his own floor right now, and I'm sitting out here in the rain waiting for a man who will never come back? He promised he'd come back…
Then I see a dark shape emerging from the back of the house and moving toward me through the downpour. He's not stalking like a predator. He's hunched and jogging as if he's trying to stay out of sight, and I know it's Lev. I scramble out from behind the hedge and throw myself into his arms, not caring that we're both soaked and freezing and standing in the middle of what might still be a war zone.
"We have to go," Lev says against my ear, his voice urgent. "There are too many of them, and by now they've called for backup. We gotta get out of here."
He pulls me toward the car and practically shoves me into the passenger seat before sprinting around to the driver's side. The engine roars to life, and we're moving before I can even get my seatbelt fastened, tearing down the street.
I twist in my seat to look through the rear window, and my stomach drops when I see headlights appear behind us, gaining fast.
"Lev—"
"I see them." His jaw is tight but his eyes flick back and forth from the mirror to the road. "There's a gun in the glove compartment. Take it."
"What? No." I did this once and almost shot him. I can't live like this.
"Do it, Viv. Now. You don't have a choice."
My hands are shaking so badly, I can barely get the compartment open, but I manage to pull out the weapon and hold it in my lap, staring at it like it might bite me if I move too quickly. The last time I held a gun, I almost shot Lev in the face when he came back to the car. I'm not a killer like he thinks I am. I'm just an interpreter.
"Vivika." His voice cuts through my panic. "I need you to shoot at that car."
