“Well, well,” she purrs, her eyes never leaving Wren’s face. “Looks like your knight in shining armor has finally arrived.”
50
Dimitri
Wren spits blood at Elena’s feet. “Fuck you.”
Elena laughs, cold and brittle. “Such spirit. I can see why Dimitri’s so… invested.”
My grip on the doorframe tightens. I want to charge in, guns blazing. But that’s suicide. We need a plan.
“You know,” Elena continues, circling Wren like a shark, “I always wondered what kind of woman could tame the great Dimitri Orlov. But you? You’re nothing special.”
Wren’s eyes narrow. “Says the psycho bitch with daddy issues.”
Elena’s hand lashes out, backhanding Wren hard. The chair rocks but doesn’t fall.
“Careful,” Wren says, spitting out more blood. “You’ll ruin your manicure.”
I feel Erik tense beside me. His hand’s on his gun. I shake my head slightly. Not yet.
Elena crouches in front of Wren, knife glinting. “You think you’re so clever. But you’re just a pawn in a game you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand plenty,” Wren snarls. “You’re a sad, pathetic little girl playing at being a big bad villain. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.”
Elena’s face twists with rage. She raises the knife, ready to strike.
That’s when I move.
I burst into the room, gun raised. “Drop it, Elena.”
She freezes, eyes wide with shock. Then a slow, cruel smile spreads across her face. “Dimitri. How nice of you to join us.”
“I said drop it.” My voice is ice.
Elena straightens, keeping the knife at Wren’s throat. “Or what? You’ll shoot me? We both know you don’t have the balls.”
Erik slips into the room behind me, his gun trained on Elena. “He might not. But I do.”
Elena’s eyes flick between us, calculating. “Two against one? Hardly seems fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” I growl. “Now, step away from her.”
For a long moment, nobody moves. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.
Then Elena laughs, a high, manic sound. “Oh, Dimitri. You always were so predictable.”
She moves lightning-fast, slashing the knife across Wren’s collarbone. Wren cries out in pain.
I don’t think. I just react.
The gunshot is deafening in the small room. Elena staggers back, blood blooming on her shoulder.
“You shot me,” she says, sounding more surprised than hurt.
“Be thankful I didn’t aim for your head,” I snarl, crossing the room in two quick strides.
Erik’s already at Wren’s side, cutting her free.
