Page 51 of Sinful Embers

She smirks. “No, but I think you should. Sugar might help with your delicate mood.”

I toss the bag onto the dash without opening it. “I don’t need sugar. I need a real car.”

She sighs, opening the bag herself. “Tough luck. We’re rolling in this beast until we reach the ferry.” She pops a handful into her mouth, then offers me one. “C’mon. Just one.”

“I’d rather choke.” I keep my eyes on the road, jaw tight.

She shrugs. “Your loss.”

The damn Beetle rattles as I push it over sixty. I have to fight every instinct not to put my fist through the dashboard. I swear I can feel the chassis swaying every time a truck passes us on the highway.

This is a fucking insult.

I’m Radomir Molchanov. Heir to a Bratva empire. Feared across three continents. And here I am, getting overtaken by a Prius while Sabrina hums along to Ice Ice Baby, which is blaring from the car’s ancient, stuck cassette player.

Kill me now.

I grind my teeth. “Turn that shit off.”

“I can’t.” She taps the radio. “The eject button is jammed. Guess we’re stuck with Vanilla Ice.”

I stare at her. “You did this on purpose.”

She grins. “What, hot-wired a car just to torture you with bad ‘90s music?” She gasps in fake innocence. “That’s crazy, Radomir.”

I mutter a curse under my breath, focusing on the road ahead.

We need to reach the coast before sunrise.

The ferry to Calais, France leaves in two hours. Once we’re across, we can disappear into Europe and find another way to Russia that won’t have every security checkpoint scanning for us.

I grip the wheel tighter.

Sabrina’s words replay in my head.

We’ve been used as decoys.

The truth stings like a knife to the ribs.

Sabrina wasn’t supposed to overhear those men talking, but she did. And once she put the pieces together, she knew we had to get the fuck out of England.

“They played us,” she mutters, like she can read my thoughts.

I nod grimly. “Nikolas.”

She tosses another Skittle into her mouth. “You think he did it on purpose?”

I don’t want to believe it. I want to believe my uncle is on our side. That everything he’s done has been in Leigh’s best interest.

But the timing. The way we were sent chasing shadows for two weeks.

And now, the fact that Oleksi, Syd, and Clyde have disappeared without a fucking trace?

It all lines up. Too well.

“I think,” I exhale sharply, gripping the wheel tighter, “he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Sabrina nods. “That’s what I thought too.”

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