Page 99 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Lachlan looks at him while they walk. ‘Why?’

Sorrenko simply says, ‘For her.’

There are no levels in this place, not anymore, only a debris-strewn ground floor with jagged pieces overhead that cast shadows like wheel spokes. Sorrenko’s people guard the front entrance as the formation moves deeper into the bowels. Kade waits for any degree of recognition, for something to spark but it’s all just dead dread. This place is dangerous.

Vasily Sorrenko is dangerous.

Lachlan led him here under false pretences.

It really fucking hurts.

They come to a small, almost fully intact portion of the Estate after one minute of walking. It’s a kitchen area not dissimilar to the one that backs onto the mess hall in the Tower. A few lights are lit, and an electric hob is heating up a pan of water. There’s only one way in or out.

‘How is there still power?’

‘We upgraded to geothermal,’ Lachlan answers, distracted. He looks down. ‘Are the sub-levels still intact?’

‘I do not know. Have your people leave,’ Vasily says, and for the first time, it’s not particularly friendly. ‘Then we talk.’

Kade guesses which of them he’s talking to.

Lachlan glances at Riley and has the audacity to say, ‘Your call.’

‘Luca, set up a perimeter,’ Riley instructs. ‘Stay close.’

Luca moves into action. ‘Heard.’

He gives Kade a wink before he does as Riley ordered.

The kitchen area is quieter with only four.

Vasily seems to have brought his own fine china, including a teapot which he fills with boiling water.

He brings the teapot with four pristine china cups atop a round tray, complete with a sugar pot and small jug of milk. He sets it down on a metal table he must have righted and cleaned earlier.

Four chairs are drawn around it.

Then he smiles at Lachlan, who breaks into a wide, warm grin of his own and pulls Vasily into a hug, which the leader of the Moroz Front returns wholeheartedly.

‘Look at you,’ Lachlan says, shaking Vasily by the shoulders when they break apart. He lightly cups Vasily’s cheek. ‘You shot up. Got so big!’

Vasily shrugs. ‘I was due.’

‘God, you’re like seven feet tall, Silly. And look at this,’ Lachlan adds, lightly tapping the tattoos. ‘You found your style, huh?’

‘Found a good feeling and followed it.’

Lachlan touches the gold chain Vasily is wearing, lifting the small, round pendant with his fingers. ‘You’re wearing it.’

‘Blaire gave it to me after we left. Reminds me of you both.’

They hug tightly again.

Kade watches with barely concealed displeasure and an anger that’s rapidly becoming righteous.

‘If you’re quite done,’ he snaps.

Lachlan wipes his eyes and sits down at the table.