The door slams shut.
The last thing I see through the window—
My abandoned car sitting crooked on the roadside.
Hazard lights blinking steadily into the dark.
Orange.
Orange.
Orange.
Then the sedan lurches forward.
And the road disappears behind us as the car speeds away into the night.
Chapter 2 – Mike
“They’re not listening to reason.”
Sergei’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the SUV.
I keep my gaze on the city sliding past the tinted window as we move through late-evening traffic.
This city at night is a strange place.
Too bright.
Too loud.
Too American.
“They never do,” I say calmly.
Sergei snorts from the driver’s seat. “You’d think after three dead men they might consider it.”
I shift slightly in the backseat, resting one arm along the leather door. “Who died today?”
“Petrov’s nephew.”
“Hm.”
That explains the escalation.
Sergei glances at me through the rearview mirror. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
Petrov’s nephew was reckless. Loud. The type of man who believes fear is a substitute for intelligence.
Men like that rarely live long.
Sergei continues, “The Volkov family says they didn’t order the hit.”
“Did they?”
“No.”
