He let Belov take me because he knew he would get me back soon. He’s always been my savior. Why would this be any different?
The woman opens a tiny door hidden by overgrown patches of shrubs and hanging ivy. “Go,” she says softly, her voice deeper than I expected.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t thank me. Run.”
So I do.
I rush through the door and towards the blinking light in the near distance. It’s an SUV, tinted windows, large and black and well-camouflaged. As I get closer, the lights stop flashing.
The door swings open as I approach. I get into the back seat, chest heaving from my sprint across the lawn, and twist towards the person sitting on the opposite side of the car.
“Le—”
His name is almost out of my mouth when I stop short.
The person sitting next to me is not the savior I’ve been imagining. It’s a petite woman with dark hair and a harsh expression on her face.
“W… who are you?” I ask. “Did Leo send you?”
Her eyes narrow. “No one sent me. I’m here of my own accord. To get you away from that fucking monster.”
Her tone is hard as flint, with a regal bearing. Small as she may be, there’s something about her that radiates control.
“Who are you?” I ask again.
She looks over, a dark eyebrow arched. “Don’t you know me, Viktoria?”
I flinch, rejecting the alien name that I don’t want. “Should I?”
“I’m Anya Mikhailov,” she says with a smile. “I’m your mother.”
2
LEO
“You should have sent me in.”
Gaiman’s been holding onto this thought the entire time we’ve been waiting. He’s only now decided he’s willing to say it and piss me off.
“Fuck that. He should have sent me in,” Jax offers.
“You’re too goddamn loud,” Gaiman says. “You’d have fucked up the mission before setting a toe on the property.”
The half-smile falls off Jax’s face. “Say that again, mudak.”
“I’ll say it as many times as it takes to help you understand,” Gaiman says, uncharacteristically harsh today. “I know you’re slow.”
Jax opens his mouth to respond, but I shut them both down before he can.
“Enough!” I growl. “If sending any of us had been an option, I would have kept you here and fucking gone myself. But all three of us are too recognizable. If one of Belov’s guards sounded the alarm, we would have compromised ourselves, Willow, and our spy on the inside.”
“Speaking of, what does Agent Thirty-One have to say about this debacle?” Gaiman asks.
“I’ll deal with that later,” I snap. “For now, I put one man in charge.”
Right on cue, there’s a knock on the door.
“Enter,” I bark.
Pietro opens the door and steps inside. The man is about a head shorter than I am. His short blonde hair is gelled back against his head. His eyes flicker nervously between Jax and Gaiman before they finally land on me.
“Where is my wife?” I ask.
Pietro juts out his chin. “It-it-it wasn’t our fault.”
Big mistake. There’s a difference between holding your own and showing disrespect. I wonder if the man knows what he’s done or if he’s too stupid to grasp the consequences just yet.
“What happened?”
“We had our sights on the girl,” he says. “She came through the door like she was supposed to, but…
“But what?”
“… There was another car.” He swallows and continues, “It was dark. The car was camouflaged. We didn’t even see it until—sir, the girl ran right for it. It happened too fast.”
“Girl?” I repeat. “That girl is my wife. Which makes her your boss. And, in this instance, your one fucking responsibility.”
“I’m sorry, but she—”
I backhand him suddenly and with so much force that his head snaps to the side. It’s an insult more than anything. One that’s meant to wound his pride. When he looks back to me, I can see it’s worked.
“Don Solovev,” he says, lowering his eyes. “Forgive me. I should have done more.”
“You should have done fucking everything!” I roar. “Everything it took to get her back! I gave you this job because I thought you were competent. What the hell were you doing while she ran in the wrong fucking direction? Eating fucking popcorn?”