“You Junior Volkov?”
Junior calmly shakes his head, feigning confusion. “No.”
“You sure about that?” Jax asks in a menacing, low tone.
I can’t see Junior, but I see the shift as he lifts his hand to shake cordially. “Michael Grant. And you are?”
“I’m on security detail for the President tonight.”
“Ah, well, if you’ll excuse me, my date is waiting for me.” With that, Junior turns and walks directly to the building exit.
Jax and I make eye contact. He’s assessing me. I’m trying to decipher what Jules could have said to get him over here. I heard commotion over the channel when Junior was approaching, but I’d tuned it out. Now I wish I hadn’t.
He gives me a polite, tight-lipped smile and simply walks away.
That works for me.
With my drink in hand, I scan the ballroom again. Jake is talking to Cramden—undoubtedly tattling on me—or sucking up to the senator.Or both.
I’m so ready to be out of here.
Thud.
Several shrill screams rise above the din.
Chaos erupts in the ballroom. All attention focused on the center of the room. On the collapsed President.
Secret Service rushes forward, moving people out of the way.
Medics and ambulances are called.
Whispers. Gasps. Tears.
Men of power fail to take charge, standing by in shock.
A gurney is wheeled in by a team of medics a few moments later. The crowd parts for them and I watch as they put President Magnus Troy onto the stretcher.
He is unconscious.
It worked.
I did it.
I turn on my heel, and I leave the ballroom through the southeast corner. Walking briskly, I make my way directly to Enzo and Eva. Two quick blocks later, I rap on the sliding door.
Enzo opens it and pulls me into his arms.
Where Hudson brings me a safety that feels like gentleness and comfort, Enzo’s safety is menacing and unyielding. He’d burn down the world for those he loves.
Little by little, I think I might become one of those people.
He pulls back and takes in the calm, cool, and collected woman in front of him—no mask, no role—the real me. Thewholeme.
A small smile dances across his lips. “You did it,” he whispers.
I simply smile back. I’m at a loss for words.
“Fuck, Pippa. How do you feel?” Eva asks from her seat farther inside the van.
