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His eyes narrowed. Suspicion replaced the shock, and the silence that followed frightened me more than his gun. “What did you call Mikhail before he was born?”

Alina hadn’t told me, and we were past the point of no return, so I smirked and reached for the vodka. “I have no fucking idea.” I hurled the nearly full glass at him.

Sokolov turned his face, taking most of the liquor across his cheek instead of his eyes. I vaulted the chair and drove my knee toward his groin, but he twisted and caught the blow against his thigh. His fist slammed into my mouth hard enough to throw me across the edge of the desk.

My teeth sliced through my lip, and white heat shot across my cheek. The necklace snapped and skittered beneath the chair while I grabbed the heavy glass decanter and swung it at his head. Sokolov blocked my wrist, ripped it from my grasp, and buried his hand in my hair, using it to yank my head back and expose my throat.

The gun pressed beneath my jaw as he hauled me against his chest and dragged us toward the private door. “Anika. Your sister sent you to die in her place.”

Blood coated my teeth, but the transmitter beneath my bra remained warm against my skin. Roman and Kirill had heard the entire conversation, they knew exactly where Maksim was, and Sokolov’s money couldn’t buy him an escape.

“She didn’t send me.” Alarms screamed through the building, and I laughed against the gun. “I chose this. You learned to tell us apart too fucking late.”

37

MAKSIM

The cell went dark. Sokolov’s guards cursed outside the steel door when seconds passed and the emergency system failed to come online. Roman. It had to be him causing this havoc. A slow smile pulled at my split lip. I’d known they would come for me. I hadn’t expected Anika, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. The red light on the camera died, the lock released, and a flashlight beam cut through the opening, the curses growing louder.

I let my head hang and kept my breathing shallow. The first guard came close enough to check the chain anchored behind my chair. A mistake I was more than willing to exploit. I drove the back of my skull into his face. Bone crunched, and his flashlight hit the floor, rolling bands of light across the concrete. Grinning through the pain, I looped the short chain between my wrists beneath his jaw, and pulled until his weight dragged against the chair. His gun fired into the floor, but I held on.

The second guard reached the doorway as Kirill crept up behind him. His knife opened the man’s throat before the flashlight completed another turn, and blood sprayed across the purple glitter covering Kirill’s thumbnail. He examined the damage with a scowl. “Nora specifically told me not to mess this up.”

I barked out a laugh, uncertain of the context but knowing enough about Kirill to appreciate the commentary.

The guard trapped against me stopped moving. Kirill shoved the body aside and unlocked my cuffs while Roman entered with a pistol and earpiece. I dragged the boots off the nearest body and motioned at the cuffs around my ankles. “Nora?” My throat felt like I’d swallowed fire, but I hid the wince. Sokolov’s men had taken great pleasure in testing how long I could go without breathing.

Kirill took off the restraints around my ankles. “Safe with Mikhail and Miss Helen. She has plans for your nails.” He flashed his own. “And I don’t want to hear a single fucking word about it.”

I dropped my head and pulled in a careful breath, then I shoved my feet into the dead man’s boots. They pinched. I didn’t give a fuck.

Roman pressed the earpiece into my hand. “Anika released everything. The evidence is out, the account is empty, and Sokolov’s access is collapsing faster than an avalanche in a heatwave.”

Anika’s laugh came through the transmitter, followed by a crash and Sokolov ordering her to move. I checked the pistol Roman had given me and headed for the door. “Which floor?”

“Four. Northeast corner. Private elevator and eastern stairwell.” Roman fell in on my left while Kirill took the right.

“Lock the elevator at three. Open the western stairwell and seal the eastern exit.” I stepped into the detention corridor where two of our men waited at the junction. “Secure anyone who surrenders. Kill everyone else.”

Roman opened each lock seconds before we reached it. Red emergency lights kicked on in the stairwell, bathing the concrete in enough color to hide the blood dripping from my wrists. Gunfire burst from the landing above. I shoved Roman beneath the stairs and fired toward the flash while Kirill climbed the outer railing instead of using the steps like a sane man. He caught the shooter from behind, drove a knife into his throat above the armor, then threw him down the stairs.

The body landed at my feet. Kirill looked over the railing with that fucking smile stretching his face. “I’m beginning to enjoy the architecture of this place. They make such incredible sounds when they land.”

“You’re insane. Fuck it. We all are. It’s never stood in our way before.” I stepped over the man and took the next flight two stairs at a time. My ribs ground together with every breath, but pain could wait until Anika was safe.

Three men guarded the second landing. Two dropped their weapons, the third fired, driving Kirill into the wall with a shot to his vest. I put a bullet through the guard’s forehead and hauled Kirill upright.

He shoved my hand away, rubbed the center of his chest, and checked his thumbnail. “I’m fine. The purple survived. Fucking asshat. That’s going to bruise.”

Roman kicked both surrendered weapons down the stairs. “Move before I decide to check you to make sure your ego survived.”

“Promises, promises.” Kirill pushed past him, but his first step landed heavy, proving he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted us to believe.

“You and your sister destroyed everything I built.” Sokolov’s voice rang out through the door ahead of me. “Love has always been a weakness.”

Roman and Kirill paused, one on either side. I nodded to the right and the left. “There are several doors leading into his office. Private passages. Find them. We go in together.”

Roman pulled up the blueprint, gave Kirill directions, and they peeled off, slipping into the shadows.