Page 221 of Merciless Daddy

A train horn somewhere beyond the vehicle. Low and distant. Then gulls.

Lake air slid through a bad seal in the rear door. Cold water. Diesel. Industrial rot.

Choose.

I stopped pulling at the restraints.

Not because I had surrendered. Because I needed my hands.

The road changed beneath us. Broken concrete. Slow bumps. The ambulance turned sharply, then rolled into an echoing space.

A warehouse? A hanger?

The engine cut and the rear doors opened.

Men lifted me out.

My legs buckled. The drug still lived in my blood, thick and ugly. I forced my knees straight.

A black SUV waited inside the warehouse.

One of the men shoved me into the rear seat.

Gianni sat beside me. Of course it was him.

He wore a charcoal suit. His hair was perfect. No smoke. No blood. No sign that he had ordered men to shoot guards and drag me unconscious through a building. His eyes moved over the evacuation hood still hanging around my neck.

“You a biter?” he asked.

I spat at him.

It landed on his cheek. For one perfect second, I saw surprise.

Then he wiped it away with a handkerchief.

“I missed you too, ptichka.”

“Kiryl.”

He smiled faintly.

“Straight to business.”

“Show me he’s alive.”

“You think I would kill your brother?”

“I think you kill whatever stands between you and a crown.”

His mouth tightened.

The SUV began moving. Outside, warehouse walls slid past the dark window.

“You attacked his convoy.”

“You misunderstand,” Gianni said.

“I heard him.”