Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
But even if there are hidden cameras I don’t see, I make sure to smile brightly all around me, like I’m just a tourist taking in the majestic scene before me, even if I am on the mountain far too late for a tourist. It’s just past sunset.
It’s only when I’m nearing the edge of the forest to the Kozlov fortress that I freeze in my tracks and dive inelegantly behind a tree, grabbing my belly as I drop into the snow.
Because fuck!
There, at the edge of the trees, is another man, hunched over on his belly in the snow with binoculars trained down on the ski lodge where the Kozlov Bratva kingpin holes up over summer, and whenever he feels threatened, like now.
But shit. Is this guy one of his guards? Shit shit shit.
Yeah, these woods are patrolled, but I thought I knew the patrol schedule. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I feel the parasite respond to my adrenaline spike with a series of sharp kicks that make me bite back a curse.
This complicates everything. If this is one of Kozlov’s men, my cover could be blown. If it’s someone else—well, that could be even worse. Competition means unpredictability, and unpredictability gets people killed.
This was supposed to be a nice, easy job.
Save the easy one for last. That was why I wanted Kozlov scared. So he’d come here.
I pull out my phone and text Domhnall. I can’t go into any portion of this blind.
ANNA/MADS: Got company. Need ID on surveillance target. Sending photo.
I angle my phone carefully, zooming in on the figure. There’s just enough light to get a good pic. The response comes back almost immediately—because, of course, Domhnall is sitting by his phone waiting for any contact from me, the beautiful, devoted fool.
DOMHNALL: Ian McKenzie. Former Navy SEAL. Sister kidnapped in Moldova 2 years ago. Filed 47 complaints with Interpol. You need to get out of there NOW.
My blood runs cold. McKenzie. I know that name from the files. His sister Chloe was one of the girls trafficked through Kozlov’s network. One who didn’t make it out alive. Unless…
I sigh. Well, shit.
ANNA/MADS: Can’t retreat. This ends today. Stay on comms.
DOMHNALL: Mads, no. Russia is the one place I can’t get to you quickly. Please, love, just wait for backup.
His desperation bleeds through even in text, and for a moment, my resolve wavers. I think about our baby and the life we could have if I just walked away. But then I remember Moira’s bruised face, the fear in her eyes, and how close we came to losing everything.
Blood feud. Kozlov will never stop coming for me. Or my child.
This ends today. All of it.
I pocket the phone and a heavy flashlight in the large outer pocket of my coat, then, in a stage whisper, call, “Ian!”
The figure goes rigid, weapon snapping toward my voice. I hold up my hands, making sure my pregnant belly is visible.
“Chloe. Your sister,” I say loudly, then drop my voice to barely audible. “I know what happened to her.”
He freezes, and I see the moment understanding hits. The grief, the rage, the desperate hope—all of it flickers across his face in the space of a heartbeat.
“Who are you?” he whispers back.
“Someone who wants to make them all pay.” I move closer, keeping my hands visible. “Same as you.”
He frowns. He recognizes my accent is American, and between that and my pregnant belly, he’s let his guard down.
I strike fast, using the momentum of my awkward belly to throw him off guard. I land a blow with my heavy flashlight to the base of his skull, and he drops like a stone. He’ll have a hell of a headache when he wakes up, but he’ll be alive, which is more than I can say for everyone waiting inside that lodge.
I drag his unconscious form behind a fallen log and secure him with rope, positioning him so he won’t freeze to death. Then I circle the perimeter until I find what I’m looking for—a ventilation shaft hidden beneath a camouflaged grate that’s clogged with moss and decaying leaves.
I grimace at the dark hole. Ugh. I really didn’t want to have to do it this way. I pull out my phone and thumb quickly.
Going dark. See you on the other side, love.
Then I drop into the tunnel system, my phone vibrating in my pocket letting me know Domhnall clearly disagrees with my decision.
But I harden myself against the desire to hear his voice, instead working quickly to swing my backpack to the floor and pull out everything I need.
Before I can overthink it, I activate the EMP device I pulled from my pack, and everything goes silent. No comms, no cameras, no electronic surveillance.
Just me, my little parasite, and the darkness ahead.
The night-vision goggles I pull out next flicker to life—EMP-proof, thank you very much—and I begin my descent into the mountain.