I stand over Elena, gun trained on her face. The face I’ve dreamed of destroying for years. Hate burns in my gut, cold and familiar. She tilts her head, a smile playing on her lips. Like this is all some fucking game to her.
“Go ahead, D,” she purrs, raising her hands slowly. “Pull the trigger. We both know you want to.”
My finger tightens on the trigger. One twitch, and it’s over. All the betrayal, all the pain she caused… gone in an instant.
“Where the fuck is my old man?” Wren snaps.
I turn, startled by the raw fury in her tone. She’s on her feet now, eyes blazing, fists clenched. Blood trickles from the cut on her collarbone, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
Or care.
For a second, I forget about Elena.
Wren looks… dangerous. Beautiful and terrifying all at once. Like a wolf ready to tear someone’s throat out.
“You okay?” I ask Wren, my eyes scanning her for injuries.
She nods, wincing as she rubs her wrists. “I’ve had worse hangovers.”
I almost smile. Almost.
“How sweet,” Elena spits from the floor. “The beast and his beauty reunited at last.”
I turn to her, my voice low and dangerous. “Where’s John?”
She grins, all teeth. “Who knows? Maybe he’s already dead.”
Wren’s on her in a flash, grabbing a fistful of Elena’s hair. “Listen, you crazy bitch. You’re going to tell us where John is, or I swear to God, I’ll—”
Elena’s faster. Her head snaps back, cracking against Wren’s nose. Wren stumbles, cursing. Elena’s on her feet in a flash, fist connecting with Wren’s jaw.
I lunge forward, but Elena’s already moving. She spins, leg sweeping Wren’s feet from under her. Wren hits the ground hard.
Elena bolts for the door. I raise my gun, but she’s already disappeared down the hallway.
“Fuck!” I snarl, torn between pursuit and checking on Wren.
Before I can decide, gunfire erupts downstairs. Shouts echo up the stairwell.
More shouting.
And gunshots.
“D!” Oleg’s voice crackles over the radio. “We’ve got company! Zimniy’s here!”
Fuck.
I look at Erik. “Get Wren out. I’ll handle Zimniy.”
“Like hell,” Wren growls, snatching Erik’s spare gun.
Erik’s eyebrows shoot up.
Blood streams from her nose, painting her chin crimson. She swipes it away with the back of her hand, smearing red across her cheek.
“Not leaving without my dad.”
I want to tell her she’s out of her fucking mind. That she needs to get her ass to safety while we clean up this mess. But there’s no time for this shit, and I know that look. She’d sooner put a bullet in me than leave her fucking dad behind.
