The casualness with which he discusses murdering me—using Vera, manipulating everyone—makes bile rise in my throat.
“Alexei agreed to this?” I need to understand how deep the betrayal goes. “To faking his death? To letting me think he was murdered?”
Konstantin laughs. Actually fuckinglaughs.
“Agreed? Dimitri, it was his idea. He was tired of being the baby brother. The disappointment. The one who never measured up. He wanted power.” His smile is cruel. “I offered him a path to it.”
The words cut deeper than any knife could. Alexei wanted this. Heplannedthis. It wasn’t just Konstantin manipulating him.
“He’s not—” I start, but I can’t finish what I’m thinking because the truth is staring me in the face. Alexei orchestrated all of this. The fake death. The war. Using Vera. All of it.
“Where is he?” I snarl, my hand moving to my weapon. “Where is Alexei?”
“You’ll never find him.” Konstantin’s voice is almost pitying. “He’s good at hiding, he always has been. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”
He stands, and I see his hand move towards the drawer. The glint of metal informs me that Konstantin has removed his gun.
But I’m not fast enough.
Konstantin clearly anticipated this and planned for it. His hand moves, pulling the gun from his desk drawer and leveling it at my chest in one smooth motion.
The cold calculation in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
“Because you’re not leaving here alive,” he says quietly. I move on instinct, diving behind a chair as the shot rings out, wood splintering where my head was a second before.
What follows is chaos.
I return fire, scattering for cover behind a heavy oak bookshelf. Bullets tear through leather-bound books, sending paper and wood splinters flying.
And suddenly the room explodes with movement.
Doors I didn’t know existed burst open. Armed men pour in—not the guards from outside, but professionals in body armor. There are at least a dozen of them, moving with military precision.
They were waiting.
Konstantin’s security was ready for this. They knew I was coming. This whole thing was a trap.
My uncle planned for this confrontation. And I fell for it.
“AMBUSH!” Anton roars from somewhere behind me. “Fall back!Fall back!”
Gunfire erupts from multiple directions. My men return fire, but we’re surrounded and outgunned. This isn’t a fight we can win.
I need to get out and get back to Vera.
I fight my way toward the exit, taking out two guards who try to block my path. My team provides covering fire as we move, but we are barely holding against superior numbers.
A bullet catches my shoulder.
The impact spins me around as I cry out. Pain explodes through my arm, white-hot and blinding. I stumble, my vision blurring at the edges.
But adrenaline keeps me moving.
Another guard goes down. Then I’m through the door, bleeding, but still on my feet.
Viktor appears at my side. “GO!” He shouts. “I’ve got your six!”
We fight our way through the mansion. Bodies drop—theirs and some of ours. The sound is deafening and smoke from gunfire makes everything hazy.
