Page 141 of The Harbinger

The locks disengaged, the door opened, and Sacha slipped inside.“Spyeshka.”

Dmitri pulled the vehicle back onto the road, and Sacha adjusted his suit jacket and cuff links, shaking out his wrists.

“Are you okay?”

I hesitantly placed my hand on his forearm.

“Before we arrive, you’ll tell me everything that happened.” His hand came down on mine in a tight grip. “Am I clear?”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

By the time we’d pulled into the driveway, I’d explained in great detail, making sure nothing could be left for Ivan to weasel in a lie, all while Sacha took it in. I’d even attempted to repeat his mother’s words in Russian. Judging by his raised brows when I’d repeated it, I’d either said something incredibly wrong, or he was surprised by what she’d said. Whatever it was, he didn’t share.

The car stopped in the roundabout driveway, and as I made my way out, Sacha grabbed hold of me.

“Every word that came out of your mouth had better have been the truth.”

I nodded. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And I wouldn’t. Maybe omit a few details or not say anything about what I’d seen in my memories, but never outright lie.

“Stay with me, and don’t say a word.”

I pinched my lips tight and nodded in short bursts. He released me and exited the car, meeting me on my side, his hand pulling me through the front door.

“Alexander Ruslano—” Ivan paused, his feet nearly skimming along the marbled floor as his wide-eyed focus bounced from me to Sacha.

“Mia? Where have you been?”

Sacha placed a hand out in front of me. “Why don’tyoutell me where she’s been, Ivan? I’m curious to hear.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been looking all over for her.”

“And no phone call?”

“I was just getting ready to…”

Sacha unbuttoned his jacket as Dmitri, Vlad, and four other men from the other SUVs came in behind us.

“Getting ready to?”

He shucked his suit jacket off his shoulders, tossed it to Yuri, and then twisted his cufflinks out of their holes. He tucked each one in his pocket as Ivan watched, then responded in Russian.

“English, Ivan. Let her hear what you have to say.”

“We weren’t sure where she’d run off to.”

He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, one at a time, my stomach rolling with nerves.

Catherine and Katya stepped out into the hallway behind Ivan.

Sacha took two steps toward Ivan, his eyes gleaming with a cold fury that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He didn’t say a word as he slugged Ivan in the jaw, the meaty smack of knuckles against cheek filling the foyer like that of a butcher’s cleaver chopping meat.

Ivan grunted and stumbled backward, his hand moving to the blood trickling down his chin. Sacha swiped upward in a sharp uppercut, slamming his fist into Ivan’s nose, the bone cracking like a dry twig underfoot.

Blood sprayed in every direction as Sacha hit Ivan again and again, his fists connecting with ribs, face, and stomach with the force of a sledgehammer. Ivan fell to the floor in a bloody heap, gasping for air like a wounded animal.

Both were breathing heavily, the only sound in the deadly quiet room. Sacha straightened his shirt and adjusted his cuffs.

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