Page 134 of Cashmere Cruelty

I whip out my phone. It’s the burner Matvey gave me—the one to reach him at all times.

Pick up, pick up, pick up…

Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. I keep making a single, desperate wish:If only Matvey was here.

But he isn’t, and the call rings out.

“It’s okay,” I whisper to my baby. “I’ll keep you safe for both of us.”

It’s an empty promise. Right now, I have no power to keep anybody safe—least of all myself. Is this how it starts? Lying to your kids?

Suddenly, I hear steps close by. I clutch my pan tighter and peer out again?—

And I find myself face-to-face with a masked man’s gun.

This is it, I realize with an odd sort of calm.I’m going to die.

And then:But fuck it, I’m not going to make it easy.

I yell out a battle cry. I swing my pan wildly, kicking the man’s gun God-knows-where. I can’t see the intruder’s face beyond the mask, but I can tell he wasn’t expecting resistance. That a heavily pregnant woman with no battle trainingwouldn’tgo gently into that goodnight.

Think again, bitch.

But my triumph is short-lived. The man yanks my frying pan away single-handedly and mutters something in Russian. Call me a skeptic, but it doesn’t sound like anything good.

And then, just as I’ve wrapped both my arms around my belly in a desperate attempt to shield my baby?—

The man drops to the ground, a stiletto heel sticking out of his skull.

“I thought I told you to stay down.”

Never in my life have I been so glad to hear Petra’s voice. “Wasn’t working for me,” I croak, a half-assed attempt at joking the tension away.

Petra makes a haughty sound in her throat. “Is that so?” she throws her remaining shoe away. “Then watch.”

With a leap, she lands on the counter. There’s a gun in her right hand and a set of throwing knives in her right.

I couldn’t look away if I tried.

She flies back into the fray—literally. I watch her do a flip mid-air, landing on the back of whichever poor bastard was unlucky enough to be closest. Without hesitation, she shoots his brains out.

I should be disgusted. I should be crying and screaming and throwing up everything I’ve ever eaten.

But honestly?

It looks badass asfuck.

Petra doesn’t stop to admire her kill. Instead, she flies off the guy’s shoulders before he starts to drop and lands squarely on the second. Her thighs wrap around the man’s neck andsqueeze.

“Wanted in fifteen countries,” was it?

I think a few more ought to add her to their no-fly lists.

The second guy drops as dead as the first. Only then do Petra’s feet finally touch the ground. She lands with unearthly grace, a cat or a ghost.

Or—

Solovyova.I remember looking it up. After our first meeting, I wanted to know who I was dealing with.

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