Alexei tried not to think about his parents and sisters, knowing that if he let himself get distracted, his focus would break completely. He needed to be clearheaded for the mess they were heading into, even if all he felt was a burning rage at the way the current situation had devolved into such afuckingmess.
Whoever they had on overwatch back on base had hacked the traffic grid to grant them perpetual green lights. Alexei rarely took his foot off the gas pedal as they closed the distance between them and Sean’s apartmentbuilding.
When they arrived, nothing was amiss outside, but that didn’t mean anything. Alexei parked in the red zone out front, ignoring the warning of a fine from the D.C. Department of Public Works that flashed over the car’s control screen embedded in the dash. Sean scrambled out of the car before Alexei could even turn off the engine, gun alreadyinhand.
Alexei swore and threw himself out of the car, racing after Sean. Alexei barked out an order over the general comms to the agents who’d followed them into the megacity. “Secureperimeter.”
Voices murmured in his ears—not his team’s, but familiar nonetheless. Alexei tuned out the chatter and followed Sean inside. Both of them ignored the concerned-looking security guard on duty in favor of getting into the first accessible elevator. On the ride up, Alexei felt Sean’s hand slide against his, fingers tangling together. He glanced over at Sean and raised an eyebrow in a silentquestion.
“I’m phasing us. Cillian is a known bombmaker,”Seansaid.
“Should evacuate building,” Alexeireplied.
Sean narrowed his eyes, gaze distant and sharp. “Goodidea.”
On a Monday, in the middle of the day, there shouldn’t have been that many people in the residential apartment building, but one could never be too careful. They paused in the hallway only long enough for Sean to access the fire alarm trigger near the elevators andtriggerit.
The piercing wail of the warning siren whooped through the air, making Alexei’s ears hurt. He was careful not to look at the flashing strobe lights as Sean stalked his way down the hallway to the apartment Alexei was beginning toconsiderhome.
And it had been violated in the worst waypossible.
Alexei knew how much being safe meant to people in their line of work. It was one thing to put their lives on the line for the greater good so long as they could come back home, crawl into bed, and leave the terror of war on the battlefield, but it was never that easy. The nightmares were terrible company and the constant need to look over one’s shoulder never trulywentaway.
Safety could be found in people, and in a place to call home in a city somewhere. Alexei thought he’d found it here, in this apartment, with Sean over the last few months. Lazy mornings lying in bed when allowed, and cooking meals together in the tiny kitchen, practically elbowing each other out of the way for room at the stove, the sounds of Sean playing his guitar if Alexei asked nice enough with hands and mouth. All of that—everything they’d started to build together inside these walls—had beendestroyed.
The sliding door was forced open and left half-hanging off its tracks. Sean phased them through the damaged entrance and into the messy apartment, the sound of the fire alarm echoing in there as well. The strobe light flashed glaring red illumination across the shattered pieces of furniture and broken holopics littering thefrontroom.
The television had been ripped off the wall, the couch upended, and the small kitchen table where they took their meals broken into pieces. All the cupboards in the kitchen were open, dishes and glasses tossed to the floor where they’d shattered upon impact. The posters for Atomic Grace, the rock band Sean’s brothers were in, remained on the wall, but were now covered in stark black graffiti, the warning spray-painted in large, unforgivingletters.
Reciprocity.
The give and take of business between gangs; an informal criminal code that spanned countries and oceans. Alexei knew enough of how thebratvasback in Russia and the Ukraine had worked, what reciprocity meant to them when dealt out like this. He doubted it was all that different for the Reborn IRA or even the Irish-American street gang Sean’s cover had initially been builtoutof.
Betrayal was never something criminals just lay down and accepted. Revenge was the only acceptable option tosaveface.
This was Cillian sayingI know who you are. I know whereyoulive.
“Fuck,” Sean whispered quietly, voice strangled as he stared bleakly at the ruins of hisapartment. “Fuck.”
“Senya—”
Sean angrily shook his head, cutting Alexei off as he turned toward the bedroom. Alexei could do nothing but follow, Sean’s hand like a lifeline in his, refusing to let go. Sean rocked to a halt in the doorway, staring silently at the ripped-up ruins of their bed, the turned over desk, and cut-upclothing.
Alexei’s gaze caught on a loose guitar string and he couldn’t quite stop the hurt sound from crawling up his throat as he gazed at the broken pieces of Sean’s acoustic guitar. Someone—Cillian—had used it as a hammer, slamming it against the knocked-over dresser until the neck broke from the body, the snapped strings peeling away from the fret in ruined coils. The pieces lay scattered like bits of trash when it was so much morethanthat.
Alexei knew Sean had owned that guitar since he was a teenager, had played it the few times he’d been on stage with his brothers’ band before he turned away from a life in the spotlight for one in the shadows. Of everything Cillian could have destroyed in the apartment, that hurt the most. Alexei knew how much sentimental value was tied up in that musical instrument, and Sean would never getitback.
“Uzhas kakoi,” Alexei said quietly. Because it was a tragedy in a way that cut close—losing that sense of safety that was almost impossible toreplace.
Sean didn’t seem to hear him, staring blankly at the broken pieces of the guitar. Alexei gently tugged on Sean’s hand. When he didn’t move, Alexei went to him, stepping in front to block his view of the mess that was their home and the life they’d been quietly building together. Sean’s head jerked up, brown eyes wide and too bright in his pale face. Alexei lifted a hand and gently cupped his cheek, the degree that Sean had phased them to equal in both their bodies, so touching each other waspossible.
“Need to go,” Alexei said. “Need to call families,makesure—”
The chime of an uplink ringing through the apartment, at odds with the fire alarm still going off, made them both tense up. Sean backed up into the living room, pulling Alexei along with him. They both eyed the small screen embedded in the wall that had escaped the damage Cillian and his people had inflicted on the rest of theapartment.
The caller was unknown, but Alexei had a sinking feeling he knew who would be on the other side of the uplink. Sean solidified his hand long enough to accept the call and run a trace on it at the same time, linking it toheadquarters.
Cillian’s face popped up on the screen, the tight focus of the feed and nondescript wall behind him making it impossible to place his location. Alexei knew it had to be close, and he hoped someone back on base would be able to figure outwhere.
