Chapter 28
The emergency lights bathe everything in a sickly yellow glow.
My cheek throbs where Uncle Mikhail’s palm connected, the heat of it spreading down to my jaw. I test the injury with two fingers, wincing at the tenderness, and swallow the blood in my mouth.
I straighten from where I’d stumbled into the wall, brushing my palms down the front of my jeans. My wrists hurt, too, where they bear thin red marks from the zip ties.
But the marks will fade by morning. They don’t matter.
My head swims, and I want to sit, but the only place to do so is the floor, and I fear that if I go down there, I won’t have the strength to rise again.
The last several days have not been kind to my body. I want to be back at Orien’s apartment, letting my Alpha feed me pancakes in bed, far from this cold place.
I flex my hands to keep them from curling into fists. Men I’ve known for years escorted me here. Men whose faces I’ve seen at family functions, holiday parties, and at the dinner tables.
The humiliation of it cools into a hard stone of anger behind my ribs.
Those same men betrayed my brother’s trust to deliver me into my uncle’s hands.
What would Mikhail have done if Alexei hadn’t arrived so quickly? I’m sure the slaps would have turned to punches. Did he plan to pretend I ignored the order to return and use it as another tool to force my brother’s hand?
Time crawls without windows or clocks. My throat dries out from breathing the stale air, and I knock on the door to see if the guard I’m sure is stationed outside will at least give me some water.
No one answers.
I knock louder. “Hello? Is anyone out there?”
Silence.
Disquieted, I lean closer, listening through the solid wood, but I can’t distinguish anything beyond it.
For a while, I pace, and when I grow tired, I rest a shoulder on the wall.
Time crawls by for what feels like an hour or more before the lock on the door clicks.
I straighten, shifting to the balls of my feet, readying for an attack when the door swings open.
Orien fills the doorway, the gun in his hand sweeping the room for danger. When he finds me alone, he steps into the room and closes the door again.
He’s dressed for business in a black jacket, dark jeans, and boots with soles thick enough to hide the sound of footsteps. He wears a black thermal beneath the jacket, the collar high enough to hide the edge of a Kevlar vest.
Not the clothes he was wearing when I left him.
He holsters his weapon as he strides toward me and grips my chin, angling it toward one of the yellow lights to see my face better.
“Who did this to you?” he demands with deadly calm.
I answer simply, “Family.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Are you okay?”
“It was only a slap. Nothing broken.”
His thumb brushes over the swollen corner of my mouth. “Who? Your brother?”
“Uncle.”
The muscle in his jaw jumps. “Anyone else?”
“No. Just him.”
His hand slides up to the back of my neck, fingers settling over his Marks, and the contact steadies the uneasiness in me that’s been present since the security guards stopped me from reaching the compound.
I lean into him. “It hasn’t been three hours.”
He nuzzles my uninjured cheek. “We both know you weren’t going to make it back in time.”
I drag in a deep breath of his pheromones. “How did you arrive so fast?”
“The Vartanians aren’t the only ones who can put a tracker on you. There’s one in the hem of your jacket. I was ten minutes behind you the entire way.”
I rear back to stare up at him. “You came alone?”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m not alone, am I?”
He puts a foot of space between us, and scans the room with professional assessment, examining the door, the mirror, and the corners where shadows pool deepest.
“We should go,” he says.
With a nod, I move toward the door.
He stops me with a hand on my chest. “Wait.”
I lift my chin. “I know where the cameras are. You don’t.”
For a moment, his hand stays on my arm, and I think he’ll insist on taking the lead. But then he reaches to the small of his back and produces a second gun, a compact thing, and holds it out to me grip-first.
I take it, check the chamber, and click off the safety.
“Don’t rush ahead,” he says.
“You stay two steps back, just in case,” I counter.
He hesitates for a second before moving aside.
I draw a breath and crack the door. The corridor beyond is empty, the emergency lights painting the familiar halls a jaundiced yellow.
I know every inch of this compound, which corners are covered and which are blind, which hallways loop back on themselves, and where my uncle’s men will be stationed if Alexei hasn’t already changed their rotation.
I go through first, Orien two paces behind me, and we move.
We make it to the servant corridor without incident before Alexei appears at the far end, flanked by two security men who hold their positions and do not advance.
My brother strides ahead of his escort, his weapon already drawn.
Shock freezes me in place. This isn’t protocol. Alexei doesn’t handle security himself. He should be in a safe room right now with the rest of the family while security brings the situation back under control.
His gaze moves from me to Orien, and cold resolve settles over him that I’ve never seen directed at me before.
“Move aside, Lev,” he says, the command stripped of the familiar warmth of my childhood as he aims his gun at my mate.
I shift, putting myself more squarely in front of him, and keep my gun pointed down. “No.”
The barrel of Alexei’s gun doesn’t waver. “Move.”
I refuse.
Behind me, Orien neither retreats nor steps forward, trusting me to handle this.
Alexei’s aim shifts a fraction, and the gun now points at the center of my chest. “I said move, Lev.”
I should be afraid. I should feel the pressure of Alexei’s will bearing down on me.
Instead, calmness settles over me.
The next few seconds will determine what, if anything, remains of my family.
I don’t look away from my brother as I stay where I am, the corridor silent except for the low hum of emergency power and the sound of my own breathing, even and controlled.
Alexei’s finger rests on the trigger guard, not on the trigger itself. Not yet. The distinction matters. There’s still time for him to choose differently.
“Put the gun down, brother,” I say as I let my own weapon drop to my side. “Please.”
Pain crosses his face. “Will you just listen to me for once in your life, Lev? I’m trying to fix this mess you created!”
“I won’t. Not this time.”
The gun remains level, but Alexei’s posture shifts, shoulders squaring. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” I say softly. “You’re the one who’s made a mistake. You’ve been fighting so hard not to appear weak in front of the family that you’ve let them push you into a decision that will ruin us, and I refuse to be part of it.”
I do not look back at Orien, instead keeping my focus on my brother as I take a single step forward. “I chose him, but I haven’t stopped loving my family.”
Alexei’s jaw tightens. “You’ve been manipulated. He’s a strong Alpha who’s exploiting an Omega’s instinct, and you fell for it.”
My jaw tightens, but I do not flinch. “You taught me to assess risk and move when evidence changes. There was no threat from the Blue Note. You already admitted as much. I’m not the one being manipulated here.”
Alexei’s grip on the weapon shifts a fraction. “Would you abandon us entirely? Does the bond, does instinct, outweigh blood?”
I take a full breath before answering. “I’m not leaving because of him. I’m leaving because you told me you were going to sanction the killing of children. Children, Alexei!”
The pain of it tears through me all over again. “What have you become that you would sign off on such a thing?”
He tsks with annoyance. “I was never going to push through with the plan, Lev. But I needed to show the family you were still loyal, and it was the only way.”
“The only way, according to who?” I demand. “Mikhail? Did he tell you to test me like that?”
The corners of his lips tighten, giving me the answer.
“And what after that?” Anger carries me another step forward. “If I had gone along with the plan, what would have been next? Would Mikhail have convinced you I was too immoral? That I’d do anything to gain power, including killing kids?”
The security men exchange glances but don’t move. One of them shifts from one foot to the other, the soft scuff of his boot across the floor loud in the corridor.
My fist thumps over my heart. “You have to see how there was no way I would have ever come out of this situation with honor!”
A hand on the back of my jacket stops me from getting any closer to my brother, and I back step to put myself in front of Orien once more.
“I went to the Blue Note because you asked me to confirm if there was a threat,” I say. “I found no evidence of hostile intent. But Mikhail was never going to let that be enough, was he?”
Orien speaks up for the first time. “If it matters, we also received a letter, warning us of the Vartanians’ plan to send a spy.”
“It’s why we knew to be on the lookout, and part of how we identified Lev so fast.” Orien squeezes my waist in apology. “But Lev didn’t do anything to hurt us.”
Alexei’s eyes don’t leave mine, but his grip on the gun slackens a fraction.
“Someone is trying to play the Vartanians against the Blue Note.” I lick my dry lips. “We have a common enemy here, and destroying each other will only play right into their hands.”
Alexei’s shoulders drop. He looks at Orien and then me. “Take him and go.”
He lowers his gun, the barrel swinging down to point at the floor, and his thumb finds the safety, clicking it into place.
“I won’t come after you,” he adds. “Either of you.”
My throat is dry, my palms damp, but I don’t wipe them on my jeans. I don’t break eye contact. I don’t give him an opening to interpret as weakness.
“And Uncle Mikhail?”
Alexei pulls back behind familiar walls, and he holsters the weapon with a single smooth motion. “I’ll handle it.”
For a moment, neither of us moves, as if we both understand that once I walk out the door, it will be the last time I come back here.
Then I step forward, Orien right at my back, completely ignoring the safety of staying two steps behind me.
Alexei doesn’t move out of our way, though, and we stop in front of him.
“You still have time to change your mind,” my brother says, a plea in the words. “We could reach an agreement with…” He acknowledges Orien with a curt tilt of his head. “Him.”
“I made my choice.” I reach back to take my mate’s hand. “I’m not changing it.”
As the fight leaves him, only grief and acceptance remain. His hand rises to my shoulder. “I know. But I wanted you to hear yourself say it.”
I cover his hand with mine, squeezing once. “This isn’t goodbye… But things will be different from what they were in the past.”
He lets out a slow breath and steps back. “Stay in touch. Weekly, at minimum.”
It’s not a request. It’s the barest possible reclamation of the ground between us, not brother to brother nor family to family, but a channel remains open when others close.
“I will,” I promise.
He turns to the security team with a gesture that sends them moving down the corridor ahead of him. They go without question, the sound of their footsteps fading as they round the corner.
Alexei waits until they’re out of sight before speaking again. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I say.
“Come on,” Alexei turns toward the exit at the end of the corridor. “I’ll walk you both out.”
As he steps away, Orien’s hand finds the small of my back. “Are you okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He steps around to my front. “That was...”
“Stupid,” I finish for him. “Reckless. Probably the worst tactical decision I’ve ever made.”
“Next time you volunteer to take the lead, you’re also taking the Kevlar vest.”
Pride fills me that he doesn’t question my right to be in the lead sometimes, so long as I’m better protected. “Deal—”
A gunshot cracks through the air, and my heart leaps into my throat as I shove Orien out of the way, but I’m too slow. I realize it as I slam him into the wall, trying to cover him with my own body.
His hands clutch at my body, running over it. “Are you hit?”
“No.” I do my own assessment of him. “What about you?”
“No.”
Confusion fills me, followed by horror as I turn toward where I last saw Alexei.
He kneels on one knee, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps out of a hole in his jacket.
For a suspended beat, no one moves.
Then Mikhail steps from the branch in the corridor, weapon extended. “Weak. You were always too soft.”
My hold tightens on the weapon still in my hand as my arm comes up at the same time Orien’s does, mirror images of each other as we pull our triggers.
The recoil kicks up my arm, the sound of it deafening in the confined space. My ears ring with the dual concussive cracks as Mikhail stumbles back, catching himself on the corridor wall, shock flashing in the half-second before his legs give out.
He sprawls onto the floor and lies still, a dark stain spreading across the front of his shirt from twin holes in his chest.
The security guards come rushing back into view, and shouts fill the air. Instantly, Orien and I raise our arms, guns held loose in our grips.
“Weapon’s down!” Alexei’s voice breaks through the chaos, telling them to let us pass.
The moment they move aside, I rush to Alexei, who’s now back on his feet and braced on the wall, blood soaking dark through the fabric at his shoulder. His complexion is pale beneath his tan, while pain twists his features.
I pass my borrowed gun back to Orien before I got to my brother. “Let me see.”
I peel back his jacket and shirt to reveal the damage.
“It’s clean,” I tell him. “Through and through. You need a doctor, but it’s not going to kill you.”
A ghost of a smile touches his mouth. “Always practical.”
“You taught me to be.”
The faint smile fades. “You didn’t hesitate.”
“Consider it my parting gift to you,” I say.
Orien eyes the security guards, who stare at us with suspicion. “Time to go, trouble.”
I reach out to squeeze my brother’s uninjured shoulder and echo the words Orien said to me when I left him, not even three hours ago. “Stay alive.”
Then, I let my mate take me from the only place I’ve ever called home, but it’s not where I belong anymore.
We step out into the winter air, and I stare at the empty spot where my car has always waited for me before and isn’t now.
“Where to?” Orien asks.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the frigid air.
“Home,” I say. “Let’s go home.”