“I love you,” he breathes against my mouth. “I was never going to choose. Never.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “Now free your sister so we can get the fuck out of here.”
He moves to Katya, his words soft and comforting, as he tears through the rope.
“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Kirill’s voice is rough with emotion.
“Yes,” Katya chokes out. “I think so.”
He helps us both to our feet, keeping low. The gunfire is dying down now, just scattered pops instead of the constant barrage. I don’t know if that’s good or bad for us, but I do know we’re not going to stick around and find out.
It’s too dark to see our way, but we feel our way along the wall, palms flat against cold concrete, shoes sliding carefully forward to avoid debris.
“Stay along the edges,” Kirill says quietly. “Stay behind me. Stay low.”
He leads the way and I keep one hand on Katya’s arm, guiding her. My head is still foggy from whatever Miron used to knock me out, and my legs unsteady, but adrenaline is doing most of the work. We inch forward through the darkness, and I let myself believe for half a second that we might actually make it out of this warehouse alive.
Then just as suddenly as the lights went out, they flood back on and I’m blinking against the brightness, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Bodies. So many bodies of soldiers scattered across the warehouse floor, most of them not moving. The few still alive are on their knees with their hands behind their heads, weapons stripped, masks ripped off. Ruslan’s on his knees too,gun pressed to his skull, and despite everything I feel a grim satisfaction.
Surrounding us are soldiers in black tactical gear, and every single one of them has a silver bird of prey stamped on their chest plate. Night vision goggles pushed up on their foreheads, weapons raised, organized like a tight military unit.
Who the fuck are these people? I look to Kirill and ask the silent question. With a brief nod he confirms what I fear. “The Ghost.”
Waking up tied to a chair with Katya beside me and Ruslan standing over us was devastating enough.
But watching Kirill face that impossible choice was worse. I knew the truth as soon as I saw his face. He was going to sacrifice himself for us.
And after all that, we might still die anyway.
“It’ll be okay,” Kirill murmurs to Katya, while his hand finds mine. “We’ll find a way out of this.”
I’m not as confident but I don’t tell him that.
We stand together, backs against the wall. Kirill steps forward, positioning himself in front of us, shoulders squared and chin lifted like he’s preparing to face whatever hell comes next.
The click of heels catches our attention as the ranks of soldiers step aside for a woman striding toward us. Her blond hair is clipped to one side in a sleek wave and her lips are a bold red. Her white power suit is both elegant and lethal, the message clear that she’s the one in charge.
As she draws closer, something shifts in the air. And when she’s close enough for me to see her clearly, my heart jumps to my throat.
It’s like looking into a mirror. There’s no question who this woman is. She’s my mother.
She stops a few feet away, studying us with cool detachment. Her gaze sweeps over Kirill first, then Katya, then lands on me. And I wait for recognition, for warmth, for anything that says she’s happy to see me.
Instead, her expression stays perfectly controlled.
“I hear you’ve been looking for me.” She spreads her arms. “Well, here I am.”
I step out of Kirill’s protective shadow. There’s so much I want to say, and yet it’s Katya who speaks up first. “W-who are you?”
She laughs. “Excuse me for not introducing myself. I believe you call me the Ghost. An amusing nickname, by the way. My soldiers call meLa Madrastra. The Stepmother. The matriarch of the most lethal cartel in Mexico.”
Every bone in my body turns to ice. I lock eyes with Kirill, his expression as stunned as mine. My mother isn’t just the Ghost, she’s a cartel queen with an empire.
I can barely get my head around everything we just learned, but I’m stuck on the one thing she didn’t say.
“You’re Marina Voronina,” I breathe. I search her face, looking for any trace of the woman I remember. “You’re my mother. You’ve been alive this whole time.”
