“You’re the one who told me to go after what I want,” I remind him coldly. “You told me to fight. That’s what I’m doing. Now the only question is: am I fighting with you or against you?”
He stares at me for a few seconds, eyes roaming my face. “Blyat’,” he finally growls. “Fine. You can come. But you stay behind me the entire time and, from this moment on, you follow my orders. Do you understand me?”
“I’m not some—”
His eyes freeze over. “I don’t give a fuck what you think you are. Not here. Not now. From now on, I am your don. My word is law. So answer the question. Do. You. Understand. Me?”
Looking into his face now, I can see why so many men are willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. To die for him.
His eyes are glowing, wreathed in fire and fury. His jaw clenched cruelly tight, eyebrows arrowed downwards. He looks like a king. He looks like a god.
He looks like a don.
“Fine,” I croak.
“If I say run?”
“I run.”
“If I say hide?”
“I hide.”
He smirks. “Bit by bit, you’re learning.”
“Now, who’s smug?” I grumble.
Leo ignores me. “Jax!” he barks. “Get her a vest and a weapon. She’s coming with us.”
“Seriously?” Jax calls.
I tilt my head to the side. “Questioning the don, are we, Jax?”
He raises his eyebrows while Gaiman suppresses a laugh. A minute later, I’m being fitted with a bulletproof vest and a gun.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask as I pull the heavy vest over my head.
Jax is a little gruff, observing me as I fiddle with the straps to try and get it to fit right on my torso. “Unless you like bullets in the chest,” he says, “then yes.”
“Are you wearing one?”
“I don’t need one.”
“Why?” I demand. “Are you bulletproof?”
“I’m not an amateur.”
“Neither am I. I’ve been training hard for months.”
“Training and actually being on the ground are two different things,” Leo interjects. “This is the real world, Willow. When you get knocked down, there might not be anyone to pick you back up again.”
Gaiman joins us, flanking Leo on the other side. I have to admit, the three of them make an impressive group. I wonder if Belov knows quite what he is up against.
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll wear the damn thing.”
“Great,” Jax drawls. “Now, could you take it off and turn it around? It’s backwards.”
I look down and realize that’s why the damned thing won’t sit right. “Jesus,” I mutter.
“Here.” Gaiman moves forward. “Let me help.”
I expect Leo to stop him and take over. Instead, he turns his back on me and starts barking orders to his men.
It’s almost unnecessary, though. The soldiers fall into formation like they were born knowing how to do it. I watch them as Gaiman fastens the vest on me.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, avoiding his eyes.
“Leo is right, you know. This situation is dangerous. You need to stay close to us. And if shit hits the fan, you need to be able to listen.”
I frown. “I already got one lecture from Leo.”
He almost smiles. “My observation has been that you don’t do well when you’re given an order.”
“I can follow orders!”
“If that were true, you’d be back at the cabin, safe and sound.”
“I’m not interested in ‘safe and sound’ anymore,” I whisper mournfully. “I just want my son back.”
“Did you ever think that being here might compromise that?” he suggests.
Leo is watching us. Our conversation is whispered, but I’m certain Leo can hear. The bastard knows everything.
“How?” I ask defensively.
“If Belov decides to open fire and make this an all-out war, have you thought about what would happen if we don’t win?” he asks. “He’d take Leo out. He’d take you out. And he already has your son. Who is left to oppose him then?”
I’ve already thought about all of this. Every worst-case scenario has been floating around in my head for days. I don’t need Gaiman to remind me of them.
“I guess we only have one option, then.”
“And what’s that?”
“Don’t lose.”
He stares at me for a moment and then he smiles. “You’ll make a fine Bratva queen one day.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say. “One horrifying situation at a time, okay?”
He chuckles and falls into line behind Leo. The rest of the men are already heading for the building. Leo, Jax, and Gaiman are hanging back, waiting for me.
I tuck my gun in the waistband of my pants and turn to Leo. “Okay. I’m ready.”
He nods grimly. “Stay behind Jax and Gaiman.”
I fall into step behind the two men, despite my personal preference. I should be walking in by Leo’s side. I’m his wife. Pasha is my son, too.
But I bite my tongue and follow orders. The only thing that matters is getting Pasha back.
The Solovev army has set up a straight line in front of the entrance of one of the bleak buildings. They part as Leo arrives. We pass through and emerge on the other side to see what’s waiting for us.
The Mikhailovs have set a similar line opposite us. They’re right in front of the decrepit building. The door behind them is closed, but I’m certain that Belov is inside. I can feel his presence on my skin like ocean air.
It doesn’t take long before the door slides open.
But the man who appears, I don’t recognize. His grizzly expression lands on Leo. He gestures for Leo to approach, but Leo doesn’t move.
The man moves forward, instead. “Good evening, Mr. Solovev.”
“Don Solovev,” Jax corrects with a violent growl.
“Forgive me,” the man says, inclining his head. “Don Mikhailov is inside waiting for you.”
“Don Mikhailov?” Leo asks. “Has he finally dropped the pretense, then?”
The suited man just gives him a secretive smile. “Please come with me.”
“Not until we dictate terms.”
He raises his eyebrows. “What do you suggest?”
“Your men can take the west wall,” Leo says. “My men will take the east.”
The man nods. “Very well.”
He’s being so… reasonable. It’s making me nervous. But Leo seems perfectly calm. Unaffected by all the guns pointed right at us.
Jax barks the orders in Russian and the Solovevs do as instructed. Across from us, the Mikhailovs move as well, smooth and flawless as a watch mechanism.
Only once the men are each standing against their appointed wall does Leo move forward.
I follow behind Jax and Gaiman. But as we enter the building, Gaiman shifts in front of me and Jax moves behind.
The building is similar to the one where Leo and Belov faced off last time. Except, last time, I was standing behind the wrong man.
It’s been a year since that day, but the memory is clear in my mind. The dusty warehouse is rife with reminders. With every step, it becomes harder to ignore the sense of foreboding in my gut.
A table waits for us in the center of the space. Belov is at the head, with Ariel standing just behind him.
Except, no—that’s Brit. The gleam in her eyes is deadly. Even knowing what I know about her story now, I fight the urge to reach for my gun.
Next to Belov is another man. He’s overweight and sallow-skinned. Clearly unwell. He’s sitting in a wheelchair with gilded handles. A uniformed nurse stands beside him, skinny and forgettable.