Chapter 13 #2
"We need to go after them! The longer we wait, the farther they'll get, and we won't be able to tell who they are with all the other masked men!" he declares.
"Shut up so I can think," I push, pacing toward the center of the room and gripping the edge of the table.
He stalks after me. "Why?"
"Because I've heard those voices before," I admit, raking a hand through my hair, trying to sift through the memories.
"Who are they?"
"Let me think!" I demand.
Brax shuts his mouth with his scowl deepening.
I begin to pace.
"You're wasting time," Brax argues.
"Shut up," I bite out again.
He releases heavy breaths through his nose.
My brain races through faces, accents, meetings, family alliances, bloodlines, and rivalries. It takes a few minutes, but then the pieces click. I stop pacing. I turn toward Brax. "I know who it is."
Brax's eyes narrow. "Who?"
My tone fills with disgust. "Lev and Igor Petrov."
His jaw drops. Then his expression twists in the same revulsion I feel. "This is exactly why the Underworld will never work. You can't put rival families under the same roof and expect loyalty. Kirill's own bloodline wants his wife dead."
I rub my hands over my face. "The Petrovs hate Kirill."
"Why?"
The question lands harder than he realizes. I stiffen. "It's none of your business."
"Valentina—"
I cut him off sharply. "We need to go. Now." I stride toward the chamber door, forcing my thoughts into ruthless order.
Fiona is marked. The Petrovs are planning a coup. And the Omni allowed this test to happen inside the queen's own chambers.
Everything is shifting under my feet, accelerating at a speed I can't control. And Brax is a firecracker waiting to explode.
He falls into step behind me as we slip into the corridor with the assassination clock ticking, and the only ones who know anything about it.
And it has to stay that way. I don't know who I can trust with this information. Lev and Igor were too comfortable inside Fiona's chambers, which made my gut sink further. Someone at the top hired this hit. They have money and hatred for both Kirill and Fiona.
Brax stalks beside me toward the jet, every step radiating fury that only grows stronger the farther we get from the queen's corridor. We both sneak glances behind us, checking shadows, corners, and blind spots for enemies.
I miss the days when I considered everyone in the Underworld as friends. Ever since Sean O'Malley arrived on the scene, there have been few members I still trust. Everything has turned upside down, and there's nothing I can predict.
Brax motions for me to go first. I step into the jet, take a seat, and he follows. I murmur, "Not a single word."
Brax's jaw twitches.
The doors close, the plane moves onto the runway, and is soon in the air. I ask the flight attendant for a notepad and a pen.
She brings it back. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No," Brax replies roughly.
She forces a smile and scurries to her area.
I write, Don't talk. Cameras everywhere.
He stares at the note, then grabs the pen, and scribbles underneath with short, angry strokes. Where do they live?
I jot back, Chicago. South Side. Petrov territory.
He scratches his next question. Do you have their numbers?
My pulse jumps. I answer, Yes.
He takes deep breaths, grinding his molars.
I write a question mark on the paper.
He takes the pen. We need to set them up. More people are involved in this, and we need to know who they are.
I write, Agree.
He writes down an address in Gary, Indiana. It's on the outskirts of Chicago and not a place people like to spend any time in since the run-down city's full of crime.
I arch a brow at him.
He orders, Text them with a meeting time.
I pull out my phone and type a new message thread. I add Lev and Igor. At the last second, I add Brax so they aren't shocked when they see him.
He puts his hand over my cell.
I look at him in question.
He writes, Do it when we land so they don't have any time to think about it.
It's a good call. I nod, put my phone away, fold the note into a tiny piece, and stuff it into my bra.
Brax glances at my cleavage.
My face heats.
Don't get any ideas.
I turn toward the window, and my mind races the entire flight. It takes forever for the wheels to lower and the jet to taxi toward the hangar.
As soon as we're in my SUV, I pull out my phone and text the group.
Me: New job. Meet in one hour.
I add the address.
Igor: My flight hasn't landed.
Lev: I'm on the runway, but there are two planes in front of mine. It's going to be a bit before I'm allowed off.
Igor: The captain just said to prepare for landing.
Me: Get there as soon as you can.
Brax rolls the divider glass down an inch and tells Vito, "Take me to my place."
I ask, "What are you doing?"
"We're taking my car," he snarls, scowling at Vito.
He glares at Brax in the rearview mirror.
I don't argue. Vito shouldn't even be my driver after I made my requests, yet the Omni won't give me another.
The SUV weaves through traffic and stops in front of Brax's building. We get out, and he leads me through the parking garage to his rebuilt 1980s Mustang. He cocks a grin and opens the passenger door. "Get in, Minx."
A sharp, warm flutter runs through my core. I obey, and he shuts the door, then races to the driver's side.
The engine snarls to life. Brax hits the accelerator and peels out of the garage. Streetlights smear past the windshield in streaks of amber as he slices through traffic.
He grabs his phone, swipes it, then holds it to his ear. A moment passes, and he orders, "There's a plan to assassinate Fiona."
Sean's roar comes through the phone. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Hack into Lev and Igor Petrov's data. We need to find out who else is involved. Valentina and I are taking care of them now," he states.
Sean's muffled voice fills the car.
Brax shakes his head and makes a sharp turn. "No. I'll take care of them. I need you hacking." He hangs up.
"We need to tell Kirill," I say, then dial him, but it doesn't even ring. I groan, then text his head of security, Draco.
Me: 911
His reply comes seconds later.
Draco: Contact the Yacht.
The Mustang roars louder as Brax overpowers a semi. He veers off the ramp.
I dial another number.
Sergio answers, "Hello, Valentina. How may I help you?"
"911. I need to speak to him immediately."
His voice turns to worry. "One mom—" The line goes dead.
"Fuck!" I attempt to call again, but it won't go through.
"What's wrong?" Brax asks.
"They're probably in international waters. Sometimes the phone doesn't work when it's moving to another satellite."
"That's convenient," he mutters.
I try eight more times, but the line never rings.
Several minutes go by as we pass huge buildings with shattered glass, loading bays with crooked doors that can't shut properly, and bare steel flanks.
Brax turns into a dark, empty parking lot and kills the headlights. He gets out, as do I.
We scurry through the shadows and get in front of the entrance.
He stops me, warning, "Be careful, Minx."
"Not the first abandoned building I've been in," I remind him.
"Just be careful. I'm going first," he declares and slides past the warped door.
I follow him and glance around the abandoned machinery, dangling chains, and deep pockets of shadows. I mutter, "This place is perfect."
Brax nods, steps behind a stack of metal crates, then pulls out industrial-grade zip cables and a Glock. He holds it toward me. "Take it."
I don't hesitate.
He points. "Go hide behind that wall. When they come in, shoot them both in the kneecap. They can't die until we get more information from them."
"Agree," I say, and take my position in the darkness.
My heart beats wild, waiting. Then the low growl of an engine crawls up the drive. Two silhouettes approach the building.
Igor steps in first, his Russian accent thick, demanding, "Where's Valentina?"
"Who knows. I just get summoned," Brax states in his normal sarcastic tone.
"I'm here," I announce, step out of the shadows, and shoot two quick shots at them both.
Blood bursts everywhere. They both go down screaming.
Brax pounces over them, holding a gun, warning, "Don't move or I'm blowing your head off."
"What the fuck," Lev grits through his teeth.
"Arms over your head and get on your stomachs," Brax shouts, then shoots a bullet next to Igor's face.
Dust flies in the air. He pisses his pants. "Don't kill me!"
"Okay! Okay!" Lev agrees, putting his hands over his head and rolling onto his stomach.
I reach down and grab his gun from his waist and toss it across the room. Then I do the same with Igor's.
"Tie them up, Minx," Brax orders.
I grab a zip tie and secure their feet and wrists.
Brax hands me the gun. "Keep it on them."
I point it at them.
He drags them one at a time several feet, then lowers a rope and ties it to their ankles. He hits a button on a wall, and the rope loses its slack until they're hanging upside down like butchered animals.
Lev spits blood. "You—"
Brax backhands him hard across the mouth. "Shut up! Now I want to know who else is involved in your assassination plot."
Igor grunts, swinging around in a circle from trying to pry himself loose. "Go to hell."
Brax reaches into his pocket, then presses the flat of the blade to Igor's throat. "You misunderstand me. I didn't come for Hell. I came for answers."
Lev snarls something in Russian.
My pulse skips a beat, and I translate, "He said you're too late."
Brax drags the edge of the knife slowly across Igor's ribs, not cutting, just enough pressure to draw a howl. "Who else is involved?"
Igor jerks wildly as the blade presses deeper into his skin. "Stop! Stop—please—just stop—"
Brax doesn't move. "Names! I want names! Who hired you?"
The warehouse amplifies Igor's ragged breath. His voice breaks into a scream. "Gavin O'Malley!"
Every drop of blood drains from my body.
Brax freezes. The knife lowers. His jaw clenches hard enough that a visible tremor cuts through the muscle. He spits on Lev's face, the gesture dripping with a hatred I've never witnessed from him.
I pull out my phone and dial the yacht.
The call connects on the third ring.
"Sergio," I say sharply.
"Valentina? What's going on?"
"No time. 911!"
"I'll get the king now," he says.
Brax's head snaps toward me. He strides over in three steps and snatches the phone. "Let me talk to him." He paces.
Please don't let them be right.
Don't let it be too late.
Brax growls into the receiver. "There's a plot to assassinate Fiona."