Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He’s the only man I’ve ever truly trusted. I realize that with sharp irony as I turn back and see my father sitting there, a grim look on his face. He’s not happy, exactly, but he’s relieved to have this business settled. That’s all I really am to him. Just business to settle. This marriage strengthens his operations, even as it strips me of my free will.
I lift my chin slightly, the smallest motion that still feels like defiance. The room is so quiet I can hear the faint hum of electricity somewhere in the building. I can hear someone’s breath catch. I can hear the rustle of fabric as a woman shifts in her chair.
Mikhail’s hand remains out. My hands remain at my sides. The next choice I make will determine everything. It will decide whether I keep breathing, whether Viktor keeps breathing, whether my child gets a chance to exist outside of Mikhail’s reach.
I steady myself the only way I know how. I pick a point in the distance, focus on it, and build the rest of my control around that fixed spot. I take a shallow breath and keep my voice level.
“I’m not yours,” I say quietly, knowing the cameras will still pick it up if they’re close enough.
Mikhail’s smile stays in place, but the skin around his eyes tightens.
“You will be,” he threatens. “Don’t be stupid, Anya.”
I don’t answer him. I don’t give him the satisfaction of an argument in front of an audience. My silence is not surrender. It’s restraint. Because I know that in this moment, I have to make a decision. One that will either free me or end my life.
27
VIKTOR
“You sure this is going to work?” Sergei murmurs to me. “What’s stopping this kid from double-crossing us?”
“Fear of his life, I suspect,” I say back. “He knows he’s dead if doesn’t follow through.”
“He knows he’s dead either way,” Sergei reminds me. “Just stay sharp. I’m not pulling you out of there in a body bag.”
I nod as we look at the building. It’s a large warehouse near the water. It’s an odd place for a wedding, but I’m sure Mikhail is having it here on purpose. It’s Grinkov territory. He thinks that’ll make him safer. He thinks I wouldn’t dare have the audacity to attack. His arrogance makes him sloppy.
Sergei’s jaw tightens. He checks his weapon again, then checks mine like he doesn’t trust me to have done it myself. He’s not stupid. He knows my head is not in a normal place. He knows the only reason I’m still breathing evenly is because I’m forcing it.
The vehicles roll in tight formation. Two cars peel off early and take the long route around to the back. Misha’s team is already in place near the power grid. Another team is posted on the side street with eyes on the side entrance. There are too many men in play to try for stealth. Our only move is to overwhelm Grinkov’s men and do it quickly.
“You ready, kid?” I ask, looking back to Pavel.
He nods solemnly.
Belov’s men are visible before we even stop. They aren’t dressed in uniform. They don’t need to be. They stand at corners with rigid posture and blank faces, scanning the street like they already know what to look for. They have the relaxed confidence of men who believe the building behind them cannot be breached.
Sergei lets Pavel out of the car and sends him over to one of the guards. We watch from a short distance, but close enough that we can take him out if he decides to change the script. He’s supposed to tell the guards the truth—he was kidnapped by Viktor Kovalev, and Viktor is on his way to ruin the wedding.
We watch as he gestures dramatically to the guard. My hands stay steady on the wheel. The moment Belov appears, I’ll be ready.
Sergei shifts in his seat. “You need to remember the objective.”
“My objective is her,” I say.
“I meant the method,” he says. “You cannot shoot innocent guests. You cannot lose control.”
“No one at this sham wedding is innocent,” I reply coldly.
I believe that when I say it. I also know there likely are some people in that building who don’t deserve to die. I also know that my woman is inside a building full of enemies, who will happily step over her body.
The radio crackles once in my ear. Misha’s voice comes through, clipped and controlled. “Power is ready.”
“Almost there,” I say. “We’re holding for Belov.”
A second later, Belov comes out of the warehouse, looking for Pavel.
Sergei exhales slowly. “Do it,” he tells Misha.
The block goes darker a second later. Not pitch-black, but enough that the venue’s warm glow flickers and dies, leaving only emergency lighting inside. The street lights stay on. The outside cameras lose their feed. Belov’s men react immediately, heads lifting, posture tightening, hands moving closer to jackets.