CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Maxsim
The SUV hums softly as it glides through the city streets, the darkened windows shielding us from prying eyes. Ari sits beside me, her gaze distant as she stares at the passing blur of lights.
She hasn’t said much since the fundraiser, but I can feel the weight of her thoughts. It’s in the way her fingers tap against her clutch, the slight tension in her posture.
I want to ask her what’s on her mind, but I don’t. Not because I don’t care—because I care too much. Whatever’s been bothering her, I need her to come to me willingly. Pulling answers from her never ends well.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I glance down at the screen, noting the brief message from Nikolai: Route cleared.
Good. At least he’s doing his job tonight.
The car slows as we approach a red light. Pasha murmurs something in Russian to Anton over the comms, his voice calm, but my instincts tighten. The city feels too quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes chaos.
“Ari.” My voice is low, barely cutting through the hum of the engine.
She glances at me, her green eyes sharp even in the dim light. “What?”
“Are you all right?”
She hesitates, then nods. But her fingers tighten around the clutch. She’s lying.
The light turns green, and the SUV surges forward. I glance out the window, scanning the streets. Everything seems normal, but I’ve learned not to trust the surface.
“Max,” she says suddenly, her voice tight.
I turn to her, noting the tension in her jaw.
She pulls her phone from her clutch, unlocking the screen, and holding it out. “This. Someone sent it during the fundraiser.”
I take the phone, my eyes narrowing as I read the message. Maxsim is hiding something from you. Are you sure you can trust him?
A slow burn ignites in my chest, anger simmering beneath the surface. My thumb hovers over the screen, but there’s no sender, no trail to follow. Of course there isn’t.
“When did this come?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.
“Just before we left,” she replies, watching me carefully.
I hand the phone back, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “We’ll trace it.”
Her brow furrows. “And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, you trust me.”
She doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze lingers on mine, searching for something I can’t name. Before I can say more, Pasha’s voice cuts through the comms, sharp and urgent. “Hold on.”
The SUV swerves violently, and Ari’s hand grips my arm as the car jerks to the side. My body moves on instinct, pulling her close as the first shattering of glass explodes through the cabin.
“Down!” I bark, pushing her head low as bullets tear through the air.
The acrid smell of gunpowder, sharp and metallic, fills my nose, and the world narrows to the chaos outside. Shadows flicker in the rearview mirror—dark shapes moving inside a black van that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“They’re hitting us hard!” Pasha shouts from the front, his voice strained as he swerves again.
“Why the hell aren’t the windows reinforced?” I snap as the windows crack one at a time. My hand moves to the Glock beneath my jacket.
Pasha doesn’t answer. He’s too busy weaving through the chaos, the SUV lurching violently as he tries to create distance.
I twist, peering through the haze of smoke and glass. Another SUV crashes behind us, cutting off the van’s pursuit, and I spot Anton emerging, his weapon already firing.
Nikolai follows close behind, but something’s wrong. His movements are slower than usual, less precise.
He hesitates.
Just for a second. But in a fight, a second is all it takes.
“We’re boxed in,” Pasha shouts as he tries to control the car, the brakes skidding. Rage flares hot and fast in my chest, but I force it down. Now isn’t the time.
Ari’s breathing is shallow, her eyes wide with fear, but she doesn’t scream. Good. She’s holding together.
“You’ll be fine,” I tell her, my voice steady despite the chaos. “Just stay down.”
Through the haze, one of the attackers emerges—a tall, wiry man with a gun held loosely at his side. His movements are deliberate, his focus locked on the SUV.
But he’s not shooting at random. He’s not aiming for the tires or the engine.
He’s aiming for Ari.
The realization hits me like a gut punch, cold and sharp. They see her as my weakness.
My hands tighten around the Glock.
Not her. Not tonight.
I lift my gun and fire twice, the shots echoing like thunder. The man drops before he can take another step.
Ari flinches at the sound, her hands clutching at my leg. “Maxsim, what the hell is going on?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Not yet.
This isn’t random. This is deliberate. Calculated. And the fact that they’re targeting my wife means one thing: someone is sending a message.
“Stay here,” I tell Ari, my voice leaving no room for argument.
“Max—”
“Stay.”
I push the door open, stepping into the fray. The night is filled with gunfire, the sharp crack of bullets ricocheting off metal.
Anton moves with precision, taking out targets one by one. Nikolai lags behind, his movements disjointed, almost sloppy.
My rage burns hotter, but I focus on the immediate threat. The attacker’s dark silhouettes are illuminated by the SUV’s headlights.
I raise my gun, aiming for the nearest target. One shot. One kill.
Another man falls, then another. Each one crumples to the ground, their bodies hitting the pavement with sickening finality.
They’re good, but I’m better. And tonight, they made a fatal mistake.
Men continue to collapse as my bullet finds the center of their chests. They have no idea how fortunate they are to leave this earth so quickly.
The world isn’t ready to see who I would become if Ari was taken from me. The remaining attackers scatter, retreating into the shadows, and the sound of gunfire fades.
Bratva soldiers spill out of SUVs and swarm the area, their boots crunching over broken glass and debris.
I scan the wreckage. Smoke hangs heavy in the air, the metallic tang of blood sharp in my nose.
One of the attackers is still alive, slumped against the pavement. His breaths come in wet, ragged gasps, and blood pools beneath him.
I kneel beside him, grabbing his collar and dragging him upright. His eyes flutter open, glazed with pain but defiant.
“Who sent you?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous.
He coughs, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “You... you have no idea what’s coming,” he chokes out. “They’re already inside—”
My blood runs cold.
His body goes limp before I can press him further. I let him drop, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead blanket.
They’re already inside.
Inside where? My house? My ranks? My trust?
Anton approaches, his face grim. “We need to move.”
I nod, my gaze flicking to Nikolai. He’s standing off to the side, his gun hanging loosely in his hand. His expression is unreadable, but his hesitation earlier is burned into my memory.
Something isn’t right.
I glance back at the SUV. Ari is watching me, her face pale but defiant. Her eyes are filled with questions I can’t answer.
For the first time, I feel the weight of uncertainty pressing against my chest like a blade.
They’re already inside.
And I don’t know who I can trust.