Chapter 3
ISABELLA
Shit.
Shit.
Something’s shifted in here. The chatter’s died down, and one of them is heading over here. Lev?
I move as quietly away from the ladder as I can.
I can’t risk peeking down below, not now.
Even as I consider my choices, something inside me thrills at the thought of being caught by a passel of pissed-off, heavily tattooed, dominant Bratva.
It’s the thrill of the chase, the hit of adrenaline when I put my foot on the gas pedal and watch my speed creep up into three digits. The utter certainty of excitement.
I slide my phone off in case that’s how they detected me.
As soon as I heard we had a mole in our group, I went to alert Carlos’s sister.
I don’t give a shit if the men know, but she’s my friend, and I don’t want her falling for a liar.
God, how could she? I can’t risk sending a text, though, not now, when my message could be intercepted.
I quickly assess my situation.
I’m the one in the loft, which gives me an advantage. I can pretend I’m not here and force them to come get me, obviously, and when they do, I take them down one at a time. All it would take is a swift kick to the neck or head if they come anywhere near me.
I’d have to incapacitate them, though, and the worst part of it is, if I hurt them and don’t kill them, it’s like wounding a rabid animal. They’d come after me with a thirst for blood. And if I do kill any of them, as soon as they find out who I am, they’ll bring war to my family.
That may be an inevitability, but I’d like to time it just right.
A deep, authoritative, decidedly angry voice snaps below. “We know you’re up there. Show yourself.”
Fuck.
At least my instincts were right.
I flatten myself and peek down below as quietly as I can. Which one is it? I have a better chance with some of them than others. If I get anywhere near Nikko or Viktor, I’ll jump out a window.
I concentrate. That isn’t Viktor’s voice, though, so I look again. I do a double take. Is that… Lev?
Based on my research, Lev Romanov was young, still a teen, but I obviously missed some crucial points.
Lev is most decidedly not a child, neither in age nor stature.
Though he isn't the size of a small elephant like Viktor, he’s not small.
Tall and muscular, he prowls like a lithe tiger, ready to pounce, and there’s a coldness to his gaze and countenance that sends a shiver down my spine.
What do these guys eat?
He has a commanding presence and sharp, ice-blue eyes that appear cold and calculating. His short, dark hair has a hint of a curl. Wearing a form-fitting black tee, his carved chest and biceps are on display, and his stance suggests he's ready to pounce into a fighting ring.
In other words, I’ve got my work cut out for me.
?Mierda!
What if I don’t show myself? What then?
“You heard something you shouldn’t have, and we know it. This doesn’t have to end badly for you, but it could.” Goddamn liar. I’m not that dumb.
I don’t respond. “You have five seconds before I’m coming up. One.”
There’s no fucking way he’s telling the truth. You do not eavesdrop on the Romanov brothers and live to tell about it. I wonder how he’d define “badly.”
I look around as if I might’ve missed an escape route earlier, and looking again might make one magically appear.
“Two.”
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I am not coming, and if they want to come and try me, I’m going to—
Something hits the floor at my feet, and the air in front of me is instantly filled with burning, acrid smoke. I fall to the ground a few seconds too late before ingesting a toxic gulp of the fumes.
I sputter and cough.
Remember, you’re a man. Do not give yourself away.
Jesus. Who the fuck carries smoke bombs with them?
I’m on all fours, trying to crawl away from here and toward the loft ladder, but I’ve lost my bearings.
My knees ache on the cold, hard floor, and when I crawl forward, I stifle a yelp when a splinter shoots into my palm.
I’m wheezing, the air in my lungs painful. I’d do anything for cool, fresh air.
I reach blindly for the ladder and force myself to remember to stay strong, to remember that I can’t cave now. I’m a fighter, and just because I’m outnumbered by a bunch of boys means shit. I’ll let them take me into custody, and then, at the very first opportunity—I’ll escape.
I always do.
Always.
Strong hands grip my wrist mercilessly. I stifle a yelp. I can’t sound like a woman or act like one in any way.
“Let me go,” I growl in the deepest register I can muster. “I’ll surrender.” I’m seized with a fit of coughing.
When he doesn’t let me go, I wrench my wrists away, trying to get free, but I’m dragged toward the ladder. The splinter in my palm aches, and tears from the smoke stream down my face. I turn away so they don’t see me. I throw myself bodily down, freeing myself, and shove.
“Jesus.” I see the silhouette of whoever it is fall a few steps but grab onto the bar and hold on tight. He swings his legs back on and starts climbing toward me again.
I can hardly see from the burning smoke, but I take a quick moment to rear back and kick at him. My kick is off the mark, missing by a mile. Jesus. I’m normally so much better than this.
He yanks my arms and pulls me toward the ladder. I throw my body weight at him. He struggles, wobbling, but uses my body weight as leverage. The smoke has compromised me. It’s clumsy, fighting with everything I’ve got, but then I can’t see a damn thing and can hardly breathe.
I writhe and scream, and when a hand comes into view, I bend and sink my teeth into flesh. He curses and bellows but doesn’t let go.
With a firm arm on me, he pulls me toward him and onto the loft ladder. He shouts below to his brothers. “He’s small and fighting like a motherfucker. I’m throwing him down. It’ll take forever to wrestle him down this ladder. Catch.”
I stifle a scream when the men quickly form a human net with their arms. I claw at Lev and manage to gain an inch or two but don’t scream for fear of giving myself away.
With a grunt, he tugs me toward the edge of the loft again.
We wobble. He’s standing on a ladder, for God’s sake, the chances of both of us falling—
He yanks me and throws me bodily. I go hurtling into the air. I nearly bite my tongue in two to prevent me from screaming myself hoarse. I close my eyes and fall into a pile of arms that only slightly sways with the heft and impact of my fallen weight.
My heart is beating so fast I can’t breathe.
This is the worst possible scenario.
I’ve seen Viktor beat people beyond recognition. I’ve seen footage of Nikko shooting from an impossible distance, and that man never fucking misses.
I have video evidence of Aleksandr strangling a man who threatened his wife with his bare hands, his face completely devoid of any human emotion as the life drained from his victim.
Mikhail once tore through a rival’s hideout with nothing but a handgun, decimating everyone in his wake, leaving behind a trail of blood and earning him the nickname The Siberian Tiger.
And Viktor—good God, they call the man the Iron Fist for a reason.
But Lev… Lev is different. By no means is he kinder or gentler.
I can tell just by the first look into his eyes that he commands respect like the rest of them do and will lay down his life out of loyalty.
I mean, I hope it doesn’t come to that, but let’s not lie.
He seems calculating, though. He’s observing before he reacts.
I see a brief flare of surprise before Viktor grabs both of my arms, barely protected from the thick hoodie, and stands me upright. He raises a fist, and the others give him a wide berth.
“You dared to invade our privacy,” he says in a growl. I can’t run away. If he decks me, I’ll… Lev launches himself at me from behind, knocking me to the floor as Viktor’s fist flies. He came so close to punching me that I felt the whizz of air as his palm flew by.
“Don’t!” Lev shouts. “You didn’t see what I did.”
Viktor roars and decks the wall, unloading the punch that was meant for me. A puff of dust goes up as drywall piles on the floor. My insides clench.
Lev holds me at arm’s length and gives me a teeth-chattering shake.
“This is no boy.”
Fuck.
With a sudden movement, he runs his thumb along my jawline, showing a dark smudge of eye makeup left behind on his skin like a fingerprint in ink. “Unless the trending thing to do is to draw stubble with makeup.” He shakes his head. “Kids these days.”
Grabbing my arm firmly, he pulls me closer.
“No!” I scream, forgetting to use the lower voice, as he reaches for my ball cap and yanks it off my head.
He tears the elastic straight down, pain exploding along my scalp.
Fuck. Thick, glossy waves tumble down around my shoulders.
My stomach plummets, but I keep myself together. I will not cave now.
Lev, still holding me tightly, narrows his eyes. “You’re not a boy,” he says, more to himself than anyone. I swallow as his grip tightens, and he seems to be processing this new information.
I swallow. “Neither are you.”
I’m not sure which of us is more surprised.
“Secure the perimeter,” Mikhail snaps, jerking his chin at Ollie and Nikko. They run outside.
I smile at Lev and laugh. “Go on. It’ll make it so much easier to fight if a few of you leave. I’m alone. Though honestly, boys, you should fire that useless watchman you hired out front. If he worked for me, I’d put a bullet in his head.”
Lev scowls and narrows his eyes. I run my fingers through my hair. Now that they know I’m a woman, I have a reputation to uphold. If only I had a tube of lip gloss.
“Who are you?” he demands, his voice a dangerous whisper.
I lay my hand on his cheek, his hand still cuffed at my wrist. “I’m so disappointed you don’t know me, mi querido jefe. I’d bow to greet you, but you are holding too tightly for me to do so.” I grin at him. “Though honestly, I’m no one of any importance.” I toss my hair.