The words hit harder than anything else I could have said. I see it in her face, the flash of anger, the way her fingers curl against her arms.
“I’m not one of your men,” she snaps. “If this is going to work, you can’t just order me around.”
“I’m not ordering you around,” I reply. “I’m asking you, out of an abundance of caution, to stay put and let me handle things. I’m protecting you.”
She looks away, blinking rapidly. I knew it wouldn’t be so easy to get her out of here, even when she agreed to let me help her. She’s stubborn and far too independent. I suppose it’s good her future marriage imploded, because she’s clearly not built for compromise.
I move without thinking, steadying her with a hand at her elbow. She flinches instinctively, then stills.
“You should sit back down,” I tell her, gesturing back to the couch.
She was so comfortable there until I told her we’d be leaving. Then, she sprang into action and tried to handle things on her own. The surrender was much easier to manage.
“I’m fine,” she argues, but then she lowers herself into a chair like her strength has suddenly abandoned her. The bravado she carried earlier is gone now, stripped away by exhaustion and shock.
I step back and check my phone again. Messages are stacking up. Security updates. Location pings. Short, efficient reports that tell me exactly what I need to know.
There’s too much movement in the hotel. Too many unfamiliar faces. As the night wears on, it’s impossible to tell who was simply a guest of the party and who was one of Kostya’s men.
I don’t like variables.
“When are we leaving?” she asks, pouting.
“We’ll go as soon as we get an all-clear,” I tell her. “Then they’ll bring my car around and we’ll go to a second location. You can get some sleep once we’re there.”
“I was always told not to let a kidnapper take me to a second location,” she quips.
I pinch the bridge of my nose again. “Good thing I’m not kidnapping you,” I shoot right back. “I’m sure your father would approve of this plan if he knew about it.”
That perks her up again.
“Is he safe?” she asks in fear, as if the thought’s just occurred to her.
“I’ll make sure he will be.”
My phone pings again. It’s my security detail. The car is ready for us. I’m about to let Alina know when I hear it.
It isn’t sharp, like gunfire, or chaotic like shouting. It’s a deep, concussive force that ripples through the building, a low boom that vibrates through the walls and into my bones. The windows rattle violently, the glass bowing inward before settling back into place with a groan.
For half a second, my brain registers it as distant thunder. Then the floor trembles beneath my feet, and I know exactly what it is.
“Down!” I bark, already moving.
Alina gasps as the suite jolts. I grab her and pull her with me, covering her body as we hit the ground hard. The impact knocks the breath from her lungs, and she cries out, her fear raw and unfiltered. I shield her head with my arm as something crashesagainst the window, the sound of shattering glass echoing faintly from somewhere down below.
The blast wasn’t close enough to damage the structure here, so it wasn’t in the hotel. I stay where I am for a beat longer than necessary, listening. My ears ring, a high-pitched whine drowning out everything else. Alina’s breath comes in panicked bursts beneath me, her fingers clutching desperately at my jacket.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, my voice firm. “Stay still.”
She nods, though her body doesn’t stop shaking.
I push myself up slowly, scanning the room. There was no secondary impact on our room besides the vibration. No alarms are going off in the hotel yet, so the blast must have been outside. Just as I’m moving to the window, my phone vibrates violently in my hand.
“Sir,” Anderson says the moment I answer. His voice is calm, but tight. “We have a car explosion confirmed outside. My men are assessing now.”
My blood goes cold.
“Whose vehicle was it?” I ask.
