I gently drop Elena back onto her feet, but I don’t let her go. I slide my fingers down to wrap firmly around her hand, turning on my heel and leading her out of the bedroom.
“Are we going after Tatiana now?” she asks, her quick footsteps trying to match my long strides down the hallway.
“Yes, but first we need to make a quick stop somewhere,” I say, but I don’t look back.
“Where?”
My jaw tightens. “The war room. We’re going to map out a massacre.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elena
Before tonight, the thought never crossed my mind that I might be claustrophobic. I was once trapped in a malfunctioning elevator, and I could still breathe perfectly fine.
But now, as I stand frozen by the massive projector in a room full of high testosterone, fierce determination, and suffocating energy, I quietly reconsider the possibility. The air conditioning works fine, but there’s an intense heat creeping up my neck and beads of sweat trickling down my spine. I would gladly put all the blame on the baggy taupe sweater that swallows my entire torso and stops mid-thigh at the hem of my shorts, but that would be dishonest. I know the real cause of my unrest.
It’s the fear. The freaking apprehension about this...this operation.
My grip tightens around the tiny black remote and I swallow, forcing down the lump in my throat. I love Tatiana with all my heart, as if she were my own blood, so I’m terrified for her. Her kidnapping exposes me to a side of this world I didn’t think I’d see so soon.
Again, for emphasis, I am no coward.
It’s just…
“We thought he’d use a ferry. I mean, that would have been my first guess.” Ace’s voice travels across the room, dissolving my thoughts. He’s pointing at the screen, which has the blueprint of what looks like a house. During Leonid’s briefing, I fell into the deep, dark corners of my mind, so I missed when he explained what structure this is.
“Would be too obvious,” one of the other men tuts. He drags a hand down his face and rubs the puffadder inked across his neck. “Makes more sense he’d fuck with Leonid like this, forcing him to guess and put the pieces of the puzzle together. Vasili thinks he’s smart.”
“Obviously he ain’t smart enough. The boss figured it out pretty quick,” another one says. He has an accent I can’t place and looks new—probably a new recruit I hadn’t noticed before now, though he does seem a few years older than Ace.
A buzz starts, with more men murmuring their praises for the boss and opinions about strategy when, in the middle of the low noise, a gun clatters to the table. It’s so loud that the sound echoes off the walls, and my heart lurches.
My pulse picks up speed, racing faster than a stallion in full throttle, and the heat is back. It’s the fear again, creeping up the walls of my heart and viciously choking me.
It’s just a stupid gun. I shouldn’t be bothered.
But I am, because I know what it signifies. I know that these men don’t carry weapons like accessories.
They’re tools. Tools they intend to use tonight.
Slowly, I take deep breaths, steadying myself.
The last thing I want is to interrupt the strategy briefing for Tatiana’s rescue because of what might or might not be a panic attack.
I’m a big girl.
I can handle this.
I can.
Mikhail, who stands upfront, closer to the screen, mutters something in Russian under his breath, just loud enough that the room instantly falls silent. I don’t understand it, but it sounds harsh and cold.
The tatted man and newbie don’t say another word after that. They keep their gazes pinned on the screen and on my husband, who’s already continued speaking.
The harsh glare of the projector screen illuminates dust motes dancing in the tense air of the war room. Leonid stands to the side of the screen. I can’t help it; I look at him. He is the literal representation of a towering, commanding presence; a focused man who’s set on preparing his elite men for this mission with a meticulous attention to detail that makes my heart tighten.
I fidget a little, but I can’t leave, even if I wanted to. I am literally the one keeping the presentation moving, with help from the small plastic remote. More than that, a fiercely protective part of me refuses to walk out that door. I need to be here, to see the man I...I feel something for, to help him navigate this disaster.
