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“Sokolov’s money made it possible,” Levon scoffed.
Dmitry’s laugh was quiet and ugly. “You still believe Sokolov belongs to you?”
The distrust spread quickly once it found oxygen.
Levon looked toward the door, perhaps only then realizing Sokolov hadn’t entered the loading room with them.
“My men will—”
“Your men are dead or dying outside,” Dmitry interrupted.
Levon’s face twisted with anger, and the polished businessman disappeared. “Bring her to the table,” he demanded.
Dmitry didn’t move.
“The transfer comes first,” Levon snarled out, his voice rising.
They stared at one another, and I saw the moment Levon understood that Dmitry would let the entire port arrangement collapse if it gave him the ending he wanted with Sergei.
Levon reached for me himself.
Dmitry released the arm across my chest and shoved me toward the steel table, keeping his weapon trained on Sergei. One of Levon’s remaining men caught my shoulder while the nominee dragged the secured tablet closer to the authorization papers. My name appeared at the top above the same four status lines.
Face—Pending
Voice—Pending
Palm—Pending
Trust Seal—Pending
A warning flashed below them: Authorization Window Closing
A green authorization bar at the bottom was steadily shrinking.
The restraint around my wrists had nearly split. I twisted sharply, and the plastic snapped. My left hand came free first.
The guard saw the movement too late. I turned into him rather than pulling away and drove the heel of my palm beneath his chin exactly where Nikolai had shown me. His teeth cracked together. His head snapped back, and I brought my knee up hard into his groin before shoving him toward Dmitry.
Dmitry leaped aside, giving me all the space I needed. I grabbed the tablet from the desk and drove its face against the steel corner. The screen shattered, and the nominee lunged for the authorization package. I seized the top pages, ripped them through the center, and threw the pieces across the floor.
“No!” Levon roared.
He caught me across the face with the back of his hand. Pain burst through my cheek. I stumbled against the table, catching myself before I went down, and fresh blood flooded my mouth.
Levon came after me then. His hand closed around my throat and drove me backward over the steel table, my spine striking the edge and my head slamming into the surface hard enough to make my vision flash white.
“You were always more trouble than you were worth,” he snarled.
I dug both hands beneath his wrist, turning my chin toward the space beside his thumb. His grip shifted just enough for air to enter. Then I struck upward, sending my palm barreling up beneath his jaw. His head jerked back, but he didn’t release me. Instead, he slammed my head against the table again, and the room blurred.
Sergei moved towards me, and Dmitry swung his gun toward him.
“Stay there,” he shouted.
Sergei stopped.
Levon reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol. I caught his wrist with both hands as he raised it. The muzzle passed inches from my ribs. I forced it toward the ceiling while he bore down with his full weight, and the shot exploded through the room. Metal screamed above us. One of the red emergency lights shattered, raining sparks and glass across the floor.
