Page 54 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

It could have been an attack that stopped in its tracks—maybe the attacker got scared or caught and ran away before they could finish the job.

Or, as is always possible, it could have just been an old-fashioned accident. But Fiona is so meticulous about safety and keeping the employees out of harm's way that an explosion seems strange. I can’t see her ignoring faulty wiring or storing the fuel incorrectly.

“Is any of the stuff gone?” I ask when I get closer and see Viktor standing outside, holding a rag to his head. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a black leather jacket, so the dust that covers him from head to toe makes him look like a powdered donut.

“What?” he shouts, pulling the rag away from his head, and when I look at it, I see blood. In fact, there’s blood smeared around his left ear, and I wince, hoping it’s the kind of ear injury that will heal. We have a distant cousin who lost his hearing in one ear, and it was a long time coming back from that before he was able to be active in the Family again. Many people don’t realize how much they rely on their hearing until it's taken from them.

“You’ll need to get that checked out,” I say, and he gives me a confused expression, so I walk around to his other side, deciding to forgo the discussion about his injury for the time being.

“What happened?” I ask instead, hoping Viktor will be able to give me a straightforward explanation.

“Explosion,” he says, repositioning the rag and still talking way too loudly. There are already some people here from our clinic tending to a few of our workers, but it looks like Viktor has the worst injury.

I want to say no shit because it’s obvious that it was an explosion, but Viktor is looking around kind of dazedly, so I just try asking again.

“Was it a faulty fuel tank? Or wiring?”

“No!” Viktor says, shaking his head, “I think it was a bomb.”

A bomb. That means it was a purposeful attack. I glance back at the hanger, noting the strange, concentrated damage closest to the office. What kind of attack causes minor structural damage to the wall furthest from the products?

A loud noise draws my attention, and when I see Anya’s bug come speeding around the corner, I smack a hand to my forehead. This situation is already fucked up enough without adding her in. The last thing I need is for my sister to get hurt.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say, walking away from Viktor to intercept my idiot sister.

“What?” I hear Viktor call, hurrying after me.

“Anya!” I shout when I see her and Anton climb out of her vehicle. “And you—Anton, what the hell? Why would you let her come here? We haven’t even cleared the place yet. There could be more bombs.”

“The three of you are here,” Anya says, putting her hands on her hips. “So why shouldn’t I be? And where the hell is Fiona?”

“She went home early,” I say, “said something about needing the rest of the day off. Thank god she did, too.”

“What?” Viktor says, coming to a stop next to us. I let out a frustrated groan, making me walk past him, but he reached out and grabbed me. “No, seriously—” he says. “You said Fiona left?”

“Yeah, a while before this.” I pull my phone out, glancing at my texts. “She texted me at least an hour before you did.”

I’m about to walk away again when I glance at Viktor and see his face is white. He never looks like this, and it makes the blood drain straight out of my body.

“What?” I ask, parroting him now, moving to stand in front of him. “What the fuck, Viktor? What is that look for?”

“She was here,” he says, turning to me with a look of horror on his face. “It was her voice on the intercom, telling everyone to get out.”

“You’re sure?”

Viktor nods, then grimaces, wrinkling his brow as though he’s trying to remember exactly what happened. My entire body is shaking now, and I resist the urge to snap at him, to tell him to hurry up. I try to remind myself that Viktor has just been through something traumatic, and his brain is probably working slower than usual.

“She said, Get the fuck out, everybody.”

“Oh my god,” Anya says, putting her hand to her mouth. She presses to call Fiona, and we all stare in horror as Fiona’s ringtone comes, muffled, from inside the building. I follow the sound, walking near to the wreckage on the southern wall, and bend down, seeing her phone buried under some rubble, lighting up with Anya’s contact.

“Fuck,” I say, turning to my siblings. “Where the hell is she?”

Viktor stares at me. Anya puts her hands in her hair. Anton moves closer to the wall, kneeling like he’s going to inspect the ground.

“We have to find her,” I say, clearing my throat. “What the hell is this? A random attack on the hanger? That doesn’t affect the product at all. That’s hundreds of millions of dollars worth of coke over there—what kind of strategy is it to leave it all there.”

“Brother,” Anton says, his voice low. “This is an Albrecht bomb.”

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