"Like hell I will."
The corner of his mouth twitches—almost,almosta smile, the same ghost of one I've seen on Afon a hundred times now. "I said that for the record. So that when you ignore me, no one can say I didn't try." He straightens. His gray eyes hold mine. "But if I do bring you along, you are to stay in the vehicle and you do exactly what you're told, or I will have you physically restrained. Are we clear?"
I give him a sarcastic salute. "Crystal."
"Good." He picks up the folder. "Then go get changed. We've got a war to start—and apparently, a wedding to make on time."
Grinning as adrenaline surges through my veins, I turn to run back to my bedroom so I can prepare for war. I tuck the wrapper in my pocket and keep the ring in my hand. I'm not letting this thing out of my sight until I've put it back on his finger… and he's put one on mine.
35
CAROLINE
Eight minutes later, I'm back in the war room.
This time, I'm wearing a wedding dress.
Not the whole thing, not the train and the veil and all that. But the ivory silk gown is on and girded for war. I put it on because I don't have time to do my hair and makeup and get all dolled up, and because if Lukas is going to make this wedding happen on time, then I am going to be ready the second we get Afon back. I'm not going to waste a single minute changing clothes.
Over the dress, I've got one of the men's spare coats. It's black and huge, it reeks of cigarettes and gun oil, and it hangs down past my knees. I look insane. I know that. A bride in a men's coat and a pair of borrowed flats, hair shoved back behind my ears, jaw clenched tight, chin held high and proud.
I don't give a fuck.
Lukas looks at me when I come back in. His eyes go down to the dress, then back up to my face.
"You're committed," he notes.
"I told you I'm getting married today," I say. "Did I stutter?"
Kir is at the table, three phones going at once. The map's still spread out, but now, there are pins in it, little colored ones, and somebody's drawn a circle in red marker around a spot up north.
"The camp where they took me," I say, walking over. "That's where he's going?"
"That's where Reznik said," Kir confirms without looking up. "Whether Reznik actually staged the meet there is another question."
I frown. "Why wouldn't he?"
"Because a man like Reznik doesn't tell you the real spot." Lukas comes to the table. He moves slow, like always, but I can sense anxiety, or whatever the equivalent emotion is for a man with ice in his veins like him. "He tells you a spot. Then he watches it. If anyone shows up who isn't Afon, he knows. Then the real meet is somewhere else."
I stare at the red circle. "So we don't know where Afon's actually going."
"Not yet."
"But we will?"
Lukas doesn't answer. He's looking at one of his men, the one with the scarred eyebrow, who's got a phone pressed to his ear and his hand cupped over the other.
"Boss," the man says. He lowers the phone. "Ivanov's on the line. Says he's got something."
Lukas holds out his hand. The man puts the phone in it. Lukas presses a button so it goes on speaker and sets it on the table.
"Alexei," Lukas says.
"Lukas." The voice is tinny through the speaker, but I can hear it clear enough. A man's voice, smooth, careful. "I heard our old friend went and got himself in trouble."
"How did you hear that?"
"Because that old friend called me three days ago and told me Reznik was alive. I've had my ear to the ground ever since. When Afon Satyrin tells you a dead man is breathing, you start listening for footsteps."
