CHAPTER 19
ROMAN
"Fuck," I mutter, my eye narrowing as I track him through the scope. "This motherfucker is good."
He moves like he possesses a sixth sense for violence. I rub my temples, the familiar headache of frustration setting in. "How the fuck do you kill a mad dog?" I whisper to the wind.
Because that is what Ilay Ivanovich is. The rumors in the underworld weren't exaggerated; he is harder to kill than a cockroach. My father threw an entire arsenal at him, poison, fire, kidnapping squads, and yet the man simply refused to die.
My orders were to kill the informant and grab the girl. Taking out Ilay wasn't on the docket, mostly because he knows it’s a waste of bullets. But I have always enjoyed a challenge.
This isn’t the first time our paths have crossed. I’ve seen him twice before, always from a distance, like two apex predators who know better than to strike until the odds are absolute. He probably doesn’t even remember my face.
But I remember his. How could I forget the boy who was abandoned in a forest at ten years old and emerged three days later, dragging the carcass of a wolf he had strangled with his bare hands?
That story is a bedtime prayer in the underworld.
The boy they couldn’t kill. The beast no one could break.
I was raised to compete with that legend.
Trained to be the better stronger, smarter, and crueler version.
And yet, here I am, watching him cradle a lawyer against his chest like she is the last flicker of light in his godforsaken world.
Is this how he dies? It’s kind of anticlimactic, he’s Solomon and she’s Delilah. What a tragedy.
I feel a dark, twisting urge to rip that light away. I can vividly imagine the look of absolute defeat on his face if I were to put a bullet through her heart, watching the life drain from her while he stands there, helpless for the first time in his miserable life.
Ah, the satisfaction. When I met them at the inn, playing house, I almost laughed in their faces.
I knew he liked her, his hovering was practically suffocating and in our world, compassion is a death sentence.
She is a lovely little dove, truly. I bear her no ill will.
But the man she chose to stand beside has painted a neon target on her back.
I sigh, shifting my weight. What a shame.
Such a beautiful soul, destined to be tainted by his darkness.
But another thought gnaws at me. Who the hell is she to him?
She looks familiar, ringing a bell in the back of my mind that I can’t quite silence.
That pisses me off. I hate blanks. I hate not knowing. But I’ll figure it out. I always do.
For now, the mission stands. Kill Spencer and Secure the lawyer.
And maybe…if the stars align… I’ll get to finish what a dozen other assassins couldn’t. Maybe I’ll finally see what it takes to put down the tiger. Or maybe I’ll just enjoy the chase. I steady my breath, the pad of my finger hovering over the trigger as I line up the shot.
Crack.
A sharp, searing pain explodes across my cheek. I jerk back, my hand flying to my face instinctively. Warm blood slicks my jaw, dripping onto my collar. I pull my hand away, staring at the crimson streaks staining my fingers. "Fuck," I hiss.
The bullet grazed me. If I had been half a second slower, my brains would be decorating the tree bark behind me.
"Roman!" My twin’s voice crackles through the earpiece, sharp with concern. "You good?" I touch my cheek again, wincing at the sting. "Yeah. Barely. That bastard actually got me."
"He shot you?" My brother’s tone drops to zero. "Where is he? I’m taking him out."
"No," I say quickly, pressing my palm against the wound to stem the flow. "Don’t."
"What?" He sounds genuinely confused. "Why the hell not?"
"That weirdly dressed chaotic element," I say, watching through the scope as the girl in the hoodie dives behind a hay bale. "The one running around like a headless chicken. Don’t shoot at them either." A pause. "Huh? Why?"
I exhale slowly, watching Ilay shield the redhead with his own body, ignoring the blood soaking his jacket. "Just don’t," I say flatly. "Dad won’t be pleased with unnecessary casualties." My twin goes quiet for a beat, then scoffs. "You’re getting soft."
"No," I correct him, lowering the rifle. "I’m being smart. We got what we came for. Spencer is dead. The lawyer will be retrieved. That’s enough for today."
I wipe the blood from my cheek and lean back against the tree, the adrenaline humming in my veins.
"Besides," I add, a slow, bloodied smile spreading across my face. "Where is the fun in ending the game this early?"
My twin laughs darkly through the comms. "You really are a sadistic bastard."
"Takes one to know one," I mutter.
I watch them scramble into cover, Ilay holding her like she is made of spun glass.
Yeah. This is going to be fun.
They don’t call me the Beast Tamer for nothing.