Foreword
Had to keep moving forward.
Harper and Aiden were still inside.
I kicked through the glass door and charged into the lobby. Four guards raised their weapons at me. I rolled sideways, dodging the spray of bullets, then came up shooting.
Four bodies dropped.
But a stray round grazed my arm, sharp pain shooting through me instantly. Blood dripped down my sleeve onto the floor.
Didn't matter.
This was nothing.
I kept pushing upstairs.
More enemies in the stairwell. They had the high ground, firing down, bullets raining like a storm. Two of my men got hit and went down. The other three were pinned at the landing.
"Hold them here!" I roared.
"Boss, it's too dangerous—"
I ignored their warnings, smashed open the elevator door, and grabbed the cable.
The wound in my arm tore wider with the strain, blood coating the cable, but I gritted my teeth and climbed.
I hauled myself into the hallway and rolled. Several guards, startled by my sudden appearance, didn't even get their guns up before I dropped them.
Harper's apartment was at the end of the hall.
I strode toward it and kicked the door in.
"Welcome, Mr. Orlov."
Julian Dante stood in the center of the living room, golden hair gleaming under the lights, wearing that elegant smile I wanted to smash in.
His right arm cradled a baby.
My son. Aiden.
His left hand held a gun pressed against Harper's temple.
Harper knelt on the floor, pale as death, trembling all over. A gag stuffed her mouth, hands bound behind her, eyes swollen and red like she'd been crying for hours.
The moment she saw me, her eyes went wide and tears streamed down.
"Kirill..." Her voice leaked through the gag, muffled and desperate.
"Let them go." I raised my gun, voice cold as ice. "This is between you and me. They have nothing to do with it."
"Nothing to do with it?" Julian laughed, the sound chilling. "You're a joke, Orlov. You got her pregnant. You made her have this child. You made her my leverage. How the hell can you say they have nothing to do with you?"
He pressed the gun harder against Harper's temple, forcing a muffled cry from her.
"Drop your weapon," Julian said. "Hands behind your head. Kneel. Or I kill them both right now."
I stared at him, finger trembling on the trigger.
From this distance, I could nail him in the head. But he was quick—if I fired, he'd likely pull his trigger too. I couldn't gamble. Couldn't bet Harper's life.
"Fine," I said.
I slowly crouched, set my gun on the floor, put my hands behind my head, and knelt.
"Kick it over."
I kicked the gun toward him.
Julian smiled, satisfied. He bent down, picked up my gun, tucked it in his waistband, then tossed Aiden at Harper.
The motion was brutal—like throwing a rag doll. Harper desperately reached out with her bound hands to catch Aiden, losing her balance and crashing to the floor.
Aiden woke up screaming.
And Julian pointed his gun at me.
"You know, Orlov," he looked down at me, "I've been waiting for this day a long time. You stole my woman—oh, not her," he glanced at Harper, "I mean Genevie. She left me because of you. Made me a laughingstock in San Francisco. Now it's time you paid your debt."
"What do you want?" I asked, buying time. "Territory in New York? Money? Something else?"
"What I want is simple." Julian pressed the gun to my forehead, the cold metal making my scalp crawl. "I want you dead."
"Julian, don't!" Harper screamed.
"Shut up." Julian didn't even turn. "After I kill him, I'll deal with you slowly."
His finger started squeezing the trigger.
The instant Julian pulled the trigger, a figure slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. I heard the bullet whiz past, felt searing pain in my left arm, then my back hit the floor hard.
Harper.
She'd somehow freed her hands and threw herself at me just as Julian fired.
"Goddamn—"
Julian's curse didn't finish before I rolled up.
My gun was still in his waistband.
But there was another one on the floor—the one I'd kicked over.
As Julian swung his gun back toward us, my hand closed on the weapon.
We fired together.
Gunsmoke filled the room, the smell of blood everywhere.
Julian's body fell back. A hole bloomed in the center of his forehead, his expression still frozen in shock. He probably never figured out how he could lose to a man kneeling unarmed on the floor.
But he'd underestimated Harper.
He'd underestimated a mother's determination to protect her child.
I wanted to laugh, but before the smile could form, searing pain dropped me.
I looked down at my left arm—a mangled gunshot wound, blood pouring out. Not just that one. The shots I'd taken charging up here were all catching up with me now. My chest, shoulder, thigh... wounds everywhere, bleeding everywhere.
"Kirill!"
Harper's scream sounded far away. I felt her collapse beside me, felt her cold hands grab my arm, felt warm drops hit my face—her tears.
"Kirill, look at me! Look at me!"
I forced my eyes open and saw her face inches from mine. She was crying, a complete mess, tears and snot everywhere. Aiden was still wailing in her arms, their cries mixing together, making my head buzz.
But strangely, I thought it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
Because they were alive.