29
MIKHAIL
Alexei.
He watches me, his own weapon raised but not firing.
Not yet.
His jaw tightens, something flickering in his expression—like he’s weighing his next move.
I don’t give a damn.
“You’ve been under my nose this whole time,” I growl, stepping forward, the rage inside me turning razor-sharp. “Hiding. Playing games. And now you?—”
A blur of movement from my right.
I turn just in time to block an attack, a knife swinging toward my ribs. The blade skims my side, tearing through fabric, grazing skin. I grab the bastard’s wrist, twisting hard, snapping bone before shoving my gun against his temple.
One shot.
His body slumps.
I whirl back around?—
Alexei is gone.
Fuck.
I grit my teeth, scanning the area, gun raised. He slipped away.
“Coward,” I mutter under my breath, pushing forward.
The warehouse is in chaos, bodies littering the floor, gunfire still rattling in the distance. I step over a groaning man, my boots slick with blood, my mind razor-focused.
I need to find Lila.
Now.
A pained whimper comes from the side.
I pivot fast, gun aimed?—
Maggie.
She’s slumped against a stack of crates, clutching her leg, blood seeping between her fingers. Her face is pale, her breathing ragged.
I holster my gun, moving toward her. “What the hell happened?”
She lets out a breathless laugh, grimacing. “Tried to run. Didn’t work out too well.”
I crouch beside her, assessing the wound. It’s shallow, she’ll survive.
“Where’s is she?”
Maggie presses her lips together, eyes flicking past me.
A beat of silence. Then?—
