“Plenty of time,” Blackjack said.
We started converging. Those of us Devils still inside the building appeared, missing the action but here now for the conclusion of it.
Liberty’s formation peeled away, bikes slowing, then circling back to form a loose perimeter up-board and down-board, engines idling low. A few of her girls dismounted, guns still out, eyes sharp.
Inside the lobby, 8-Ball and Turnpike stepped up to the shattered doorway, covering Vladimir from the other angle. A few of the other Devils’ fanned out behind them.
Valkyrie and I moved forward across the boards, staying low. The boards creaked under our boots, old wood protesting.
“Vladimir,” Blackjack called.
His voice was calm. Hard.
“You’re done,” he said. “Let her go.”
Vlad turned slightly, enough that I could see his face more clearly. Sweat had dampened the hair at his temples. There was a cut on his cheekbone that hadn’t been there upstairs. His eyes… weren’t afraid.
“You have me surrounded,” he said, smiling. “I admit, it’s impressive. Devils, and Vipers. A very dangerous and expensive audience.”
“You wanted a show,” Liberty said, semi-idle where she sat on her bike, one boot down, gun resting on the bars. “You got one. Time to bow. Acts over.”
He shifted his grip. His pistol pressed into Roman’s wife’s side hard. She whimpered, handstrembling in the zip ties.
Gianna’s head lifted.
Her eyes found mine again.
Up close, they looked like Roman’s. Dark, intelligent, angry. But there was something else there too.
A decision.
She whispered something to her mother I couldn’t hear.
Then she stepped closer to Vladimir, like she was seeking more cover, pressing herself against his back.
From anyone else’s angle, it looked like terror. Like she was hiding. From us.
From mine, ten feet off, it looked like positioning.
Her bound hands slid down, then up, like she was just grabbing for his coat for balance.
I saw the glint of metal.
A knife. I don’t know where she got it. Maybe in the chaos of the gunfight she took it off a body. Or maybe she had it on her the entire time.
Smart girl.
He didn’t notice her.
He was too busy talking.
“You won’t shoot me,” he said. “Not while I hold them.”
“Wanna bet?” 8-Ball called. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Roman will want to do it himself,” Vlad said. “You know this. You think he’ll thank you if you steal that from him?”
“Pretty sure he’ll thank us more for not making himplan a double funeral,” Blackjack said. “Last chance.”
