There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear the wind howling wherever he was.
“I’ve been watching,” he disclosed. “From the shadows. I didn’t want to come anywhere near the Italians or even you, the Lobanovs. But now that her life is on the line, I can’t do nothing. She’s still my daughter, Alexei.”
I didn’t believe in his regret. Men like Petrov didn’t change; they just looked for the life boat when the ship started to sink.
“I’ll meet you there,” Petrov added. “I have the codes for the secondary gate. I’ll show you the way in.”
Then the line went dead.
I looked at Viktor and Roman. They were watching me, waiting for the spark that would set the world on fire.
“Red Hook,” I told them. “The foundry. Petrov is meeting us there.”
“You trust him?” Roman asked, his hand drifting to the holster at his hip.
“No,” I said, heading for the door. “But I don’t care. If he’s lying, he dies. If he’s telling the truth and he wants to die in the same place as his son, that’s his choice.”
Roman looked to Viktor, and I took an impatient breath.
“Okay,” Viktor breathed.
Show time.
I moved through the room with practiced efficiency. This was the ritual. The preparation for the hunt.
I stripped off my blood-stained suit jacket and tossed it aside. I pulled on a tactical vest, cinching the straps until they bit into my ribs. I checked my primary sidearm—a custom Heckler & Koch—sliding the magazine in with a satisfying clack. I holstered it at my hip. A second, smaller backup went into the shoulder holster.
Next came the blade. A matte-black combat knife, balanced perfectly. I slid it into the sheath at the small of my back.
I was pulling on my leather gloves, tightening the Velcro at the wrists, when Anya appeared in the doorway.
“Alexei,” she said, her voice tight. “You’re going in blind. Petrov could be leading you into a kill zone. Let the strike teams go first. Stay back.”
I stopped and looked at her. I saw the worry in her eyes, but she saw something else in mine. She saw that there was no “staying back.” Not for this.
“Mila is my best friend. I want her safe, too. But I also know she wouldn’t want you putting yourself and her in greater danger by not preparing properly.”
Something about the thought of Mila not wanting me in danger made something soften inside me. It made me hunger for her touch. But this wasn’t the time for softness. It was time to make the people who dared to touch my queen beg for their end.
I walked over to Anya and gripped her shoulders. I leaned down and pressed a firm, brief kiss to her forehead. I turned and walked out, the heavy boots of my men echoing behind me.
Outside, the world was turning white. A late-winter blizzard had descended, the snow falling in thick, heavy flakes that muffled the sound of the city. The convoy was waiting in the courtyard. Five blacked-out SUVs, their engines idling with a low, predatory growl. Exhaust plumes rose into the freezing air like the breath of dragons.
I climbed into the lead vehicle. Roman was in the driver’s seat, Damian in the passenger.
“Everyone’s ready,” Roman said, his eyes reflecting the dashboard lights. “The second team is already moving to flank the foundry from the water side.”
“Okay.”
I leaned my head back against the seat and watched the snow hit the windshield. The growl of the engines intensified as we moved out, the tires crunching over the fresh powder. We moved through the streets like a funeral procession for the men who hadn’t died yet.
Every muscle in my body was coiled, a spring compressed to its limit. My mind was no longer in the SUV. It was already in that foundry. It was already around Enzo’s throat. It was already reaching for Mila.
They had made a mistake. They thought they were taking a hostage. They thought they were taking a bargaining chip.
They didn’t realize they had simply invited their own extinction.
They touched what’s mine.
