He moves like violence personified, gun raised, face completely expressionless. Two shots, precise and devastating. Both men fall.
I’m on the ground, don’t remember falling, hands pressed over my mouth to contain screams that won’t stop coming. Blood soaks into my clothes—it’s not mine,I think, but I can’t be sure. Everything is shaking. The world has narrowed to the bodies on the pavement and the man standing over them like death itself.
Dimitri lowers his gun, slides it into a shoulder holster I hadn’t noticed before. Then he’s moving toward me, and I scramble backward on instinct.
“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
He ignores the command, hauling me to my feet with hands that are surprisingly gentle given what they just did. “Are you hurt?”
I can’t answer. I Can only stare at the bodies and shake.
“Janice.” His hand cups my face, forcing me to look at him instead of the carnage. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. I don’t—”
He runs his hands over me quickly, efficiently, checking for injuries I can’t feel through the adrenaline. His fingers come away bloody, and my stomach lurches.
“Not yours,” he says, reading my expression. “You’re fine. Bruised, probably, from the crash, but fine.”
Fine. The word is absurd. Nothing about this is fine.
A sleek black car pulls up—not the sedans that chased me, something else. The back door opens, and Dimitri guides me toward it with a hand at my back.
“Get in.”
“Who were they?”
“Get in the car, Janice. Now.”
His voice leaves no room for argument. I climb in on legs that barely function, and he slides in beside me. The driver pulls away before I’ve even processed that we’re moving.
I stare out the window, watching the scene disappear behind us. Three bodies on the pavement. My crashed car. Evidence of violence that just evaporated like it never happened.
“Someone will handle it,” Dimitri says, following my gaze. “The bodies, your car, the police reports. It’ll be clean.”
“Clean,” I repeat numbly. “You just killed three people.”
“I just saved your life.”
“From who? From what?” Hysteria edges into my voice. “Were those your people? Was this you punishing me for—”
“Those weren’t my people.” His voice hardens. “They were Volkov men. Yes, they were coming for you, but not because of me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand. You need to stay quiet and let me handle this.”
The car speeds through empty streets, heading somewhere I don’t recognize. My hands are still shaking uncontrollably. I press them together, trying to stop the trembling, but it spreads through my entire body.
Shock. I’m going into shock.
Dimitri shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. The leather smells like him—expensive cologne and something darker underneath. The weight of it grounds me slightly, pulls me back from the edge of a complete breakdown.
“Where are we going?” I finally manage.
“Somewhere safe.”
“My apartment is close by.”
