Chapter 49
Cassandra
“Any last words, little girl?”
Fear pounds something fierce through my veins as the bearded man steps toward me, a sharp knife clenched in his hand.
My hands remain tied. Every time I flinch backwards, Lev brings me back with a sharp pull of my hair, thin strands snapping under duress.
And then, when I think it can’t feel worse, something else overtakes the fear.
I’m suddenly at the mercy of a huge, salty wave of sorrowful grief.
Grief for the rest of my life that I’ll never get to live.
Grief for the situation I’m leaving my poor mother in, all alone, without someone to talk to.
The children that I’ve always desired, but now I’ll never get to grow and meet.
Thousands of future coffee dates with Sophia, laughing too loudly, and trading sips of drinks.
And, most of all, the epic love story Mikhail and I have barely fucking started.
The oddly timed moment of clarity provides me with a strange rush of realization.
Some of the things I thought were so important only yesterday pale in the glint of the knife.
And all the while, the love of my life kneels just a few feet away, eyes glued to mine like we’re the only people in the entire world.
“I do hope everybody enjoys these last few minutes of the Solokov lineage,” Cassio boasts, slamming his fist across Mikhail’s cheek in a blow that makes me wince.
His words have panic inflating my chest. Not only for me, but for the man I love, held just a few inches away. I don’t want him to see this. He shouldn’t have to see this.
“It may have been your father who started this war, but I’ll take solace in ending it with you, boy.”
I plead with my eyes, trying to communicate every word I may never get to say. Cassio turns to me, taking several steps closer.
It’s not your fault, baby. Get out of here, Mikhail.
The knife lifts to the base of my neck, causing horror to flood my system.
“Say goodbye to your bitch—”
A blast of nearby gunfire shoots out from somewhere upstairs, cutting off Cassio in the middle of his speech. The knife drops. My body, still frozen in a flinch, slowly unfurls.
I search for Mikhail’s gaze, but his reaction throws me off—a small smile peaking through my man’s cocky expression.
“What the fuck is that?” Cassio yells out as the shots sound off closer, and Lev drops me to the floor with a thud to investigate.
Me? I don’t dare take my gaze off Mikhail.
I watch raptly as the shots start to ping off the wooden staircase behind us.
As Mikhail lets out a low laugh.
And then he spits, and a metal ball shoots from his mouth with the glob of saliva, bouncing across the filthy floors. Every single fucking person turns to the small piece of metal, which I’m now realizing isn’t a ball at all. It’s a small, square shape, engraved with tiny circuits.
Mikhail smuggled in a tracker.
“That,” Mikhail says, snapping his wrists free from the restraints behind his back, “is checkmate.”