I clench my fists so hard my nails cut into my palms, focusing on the sting. The pain is grounding, centering. It reminds me why I’m here.
Flashback, hot and vicious, hits me. Images of that night seared into my brain.
The Ravens, cold and merciless, hunting us through the streets. The crack of gunfire, the screech of tires. The smell of blood and fear.
And Kuznetsov, watching it all with those pitiless eyes.
The curl of his lips as Jake breathed his last.
I shudder, then swallow hard, forcing the memories back into their box.
I can’t fall apart, not now. Not when I’m so close.
The bimbos on the couch are still chattering, their voices shrill with excitement.
“Bozhe moy, I’ve got invited to Leonid’s after-party!”one of them squeals, her Russian accent so strong it’s almost incomprehensible.
“No way!” the other gasps, her posh British accent dripping with envy. “You jammy cow! What’d you have to do for that golden ticket?”
After-party, huh?
Well, well, well. Looks like Fate’s not done with me yet.
I stand, adjusting my mask.
Fuck it. I’m finishing him up tonight.
I crack the stall door, peeking out. The girls are huddled together, gossiping.
I slip out, scanning the room. No cameras. Perfect. I spit out the poison and tuck it into my bra.
Their voices grate on my last nerve as I cross to the door, trying to ignore their giggles and namedropping.
I grip the handle, pressing until it clicks.
Locked.
Silence behind me. I feel their stares boring into my back.
I turn slowly, meeting their wide, wary eyes.
Just then, static crackles to life beyond the door. A voice pours through, silky and smug.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the MC.
Perfect timing…
“Showtime, ladies.” I smile.
twenty-one
Leonid
I'm barely settled in my seat when Maksim leans in, his jaw tight. “Boss, we may have a problem.”
I arch a brow, not taking my eyes off the milling crowd. “Oh? Do tell.”
“Thesyn sukiArthur Mendoza just walked in. Bold move, considering the shit he pulled in Macau.”
