“That was supposed to be the end.” I watch the sky. I can still see the smoke gathering, and now there are sirens in the night.
“It was a good plan. Follow Marat. Kill them when they’re all together. Got unlucky.”
“Fucking cheap house was a fire hazard.”
“Don’t make ‘em like they used to,” Daniel agrees happily. “But look at the bright side? Vadim’s definitely dead.”
I grunt and look down at myself. I’m splattered in blood. It’s caked on my clothes and under my nails. I smile. “Killing himwasfun.”
“See? That’s the spirit.”
“But I wanted Marat too. Did you see what happened to him?”
“Not sure, honestly. Want me to ask around?”
“We’ll regroup later.” My head falls back against the seat.
Daniel’s right. That ambush didn’t go to plan, but it was still a success. Half the Turks in L.A. are now burning corpses, one of my traitors is definitely rotting in hell, and Aslan’s injured. He knows I’m coming for him and not to be fucked with.
But he’s not finished, and he won’t back down.
That’s the nature of a prize like the Dragon seat. It drives men to madness. It makes them monsters, demons, less than human, all to take power for themselves. And I know it’s doing the same to me, only I can rationalize it away as doing what has to be done.
Only I wonder, dimly, as I shrug off my vest and check the bloody wound on my chest, what I have left to lose, what parts of me haven’t been consumed by this quest already, and what I’ll be in the end. If I’m not dead.
CHAPTER 12
NIKA
I’m dragged out of bed by Gabe’s men. They already have all my bags packed. One of them, a young Russian man named Pavel, seems shy about the whole thing. “I really am sorry, Mrs. Russo, but your husband gave us strict orders.”
I glare at them, still in my night clothes: designer sweats and a button-up pajama top. No bra, obviously, which isn’t that much of a problem, but I’m aware of it at least.
“Does my husband tell you to do annoying things all the time?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Pavel’s trying not to smile. His partner is much more serious and probably ten years older. I get the feeling he doesn’t speak much English. Fine with me.
“Do you know why I have to change hotels at—“ I check the clock and let out a groan. “Midnight?! Where are we evengoing?”
“It’s for your protection. And we’re headed to the Ritz.”
“Wait. Seriously?”
“Yes, ma’am. Your new room is already prepared and waiting.”
I follow my two handlers out into the hall. They’re lugging all our suitcases, practically overburdened with them. I feel bad, but have to remind myself that none of this is my choice.
Typical of my husband. He can’t do anything normal. There were a thousand chances to tell me about this scattered throughout the day. A phone call, a text. Hell, an email would’ve worked. Just a heads up that we’d have to move locations at some point. Instead, I got a couple of well-meaning goons waking me up from a perfectly acceptable sleep.
All to drag me to another fancy hotel.
I’m annoyed by the time I’m unlocking the door to my new room. It’s another gorgeous suite and must cost a fortune per night. I don’t even want to know. I look around, grinding my teeth, refusing to imagine how much of my money Gabe’s spending without asking me?—
Until I spot the black, bloody jacket tossed casually over the back of a chair.
I don’t move. It feels like the jacket is a promise. It’s some kind of sign that my life got more complicated, and I don’t even understand why. Pavel and his partner dump my bags in the foyer before quickly leaving me alone. I drift to the jacket, unable to look away.
There’s a hole in the chest like someone tore it with a blade.
