Page 136 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

The brunette’s gaze flicks to Nico for just a fraction of a second before returning to Zervas. “Nico and I have an agreement.”

“Agreement?” I repeat with a frown.

“Inked,” he adds.

She tilts her head, a faint smile touching her lips. “I’m fine.”

Ares’s jaw tightens as we look at each other.

“If she’s fine, why the machine gun, Scava?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Nico’s lips curve into an amusing smirk. “Two mafia bosses with an army walk into my elevator,” he says, like he’s telling a bad joke. “What did you expect?”

He’s got a point.

Still, I step forward, placing myself between Ares and the gun, my gaze locking on Nico’s. “Lower your gun if she’s fine.”

He narrows his eyes on me, calculating what I’ll do. What I’m capable of. If he’s holding her against her will, given her relation to us, he’s got a bigger problem than a smart-ass captive.

Smiling, he lowers the weapon and then gestures to Elodie. “You can go if you want.”

Her jaw drops open. “What?”

Something silent passes between them.

“I need to stay,” Elodie says.

Need?

“See? She wants to stay.” Nico’s smirk resumes.

He then struts to a console table next to where Elodie stands and lowers the weapon on it. Right in front of her. I take a breath to see what she does. She could pick it up and shoot him, if she really is his prisoner.

She doesn’t touch it. Weird.

The tension in the room eases just enough to breathe.

“Brunette,” I say to Elodie, my tone deliberately casual. “You good?”

She nods, then looks at the God of War. “Ares, do you promise Sandrine is safe?” she asks, her arms folded.

“She’s safe with Kirill,” Ares answers for me, gripping my arm. “Lourdes and I saw her in Chicago,” he adds, but doesn’t mention my daughter.

Elodie looks from me to Ares. “I’ll call them both soon. I promise.”

“You heard her. Now, with all due respect.” Nico gestures slightly toward the door. “Get the fuck out of my hotel and do me the courtesy of making an appointment next time.”

Ares and I exchange another look. We don’t have much of a choice. We expect the same in our cities. We leave, but unease lingers in my gut.

We turn back and ride down the elevator in silence.

“Did you buy that?” I ask Ares out on the sidewalk.

He exhales slowly, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure.”

“She didn’t look hurt.”

“No,” he agrees. “She didn’t.”