The shot paints the wall. Then—silence.
Blood drips from my fingertips. It’s a mess, a bloodbath at the foot of these stairs, but I’ve done the world a service. Three fewer Vukovic men is a good thing.
My shoulder screams and my knuckles are split, but fuck it—it feels good to be a monster again.
A crash echoes from the alley. Distant shouts—female, strangely enough. I frown. But that’s Kosti’s problem. Surely he can handle one Frenchwoman.
I take the stairs two at a time. The door opens easily. Not even locked. I growl in displeasure, low in my throat, and slip inside.
The smell is strong. Cleaning product base, with notes of jasmine and—surely that’s not fucking peaches, is it?
No. Of course not. I’m hallucinating, smelling what I want to smell. I need to get my shit together. The rust might not be all gone after all.
It’s quiet and still inside, which is surprising, given the ruckus of murder that just took place right downstairs. My heartbeat quickens. They didn’t take her already, did they?
You’re too late,ssyklo. She’s already gone?—
A floorboard creaks behind me.
I turn.
She comes at me in a blur of curls and fury, a kitchen knife aimed at my heart.
Fuck.
“Nyet!” I snarl, slamming her against the wall by her wrist. Plaster dust rains as she struggles to bring the blade down into my chest. Her heartbeat thrashes against mine. Violin-calloused fingertips.
Jasmine.
Alive.
“You fucking bastards!” she rasps. “I’ll?—”
“Open your eyes, Jasmine.”
She freezes. Blinks. Peels her eyelids apart.
When she does, recognition floods her face. “… S-Sasha?”
I twist the knife from her grip. It clatters to the floor. She stumbles back, chest heaving, hands raised like she’s waiting for the blow.
“I was starting to think you might be dead.”
“That’s a piss-poor ‘thank you for saving my life,’” I growl.
She rubs the sleep from her eyes. “I never know what to thank you for, honestly. Some days, I appreciate what you did. Others… I’m not so sure it was for me.”
“Somehow,” I snap, “your gratitude got even worse the second time around.” I grab her by the upper arm and start to drag her to the door. “Regardless, we don’t have time for this shit. I just killed three Serbs on your doorstep, and if I know anything about Dragan, there are more coming. We need to go, now.”
She digs her heels in. “I’m not leaving Ari.”
“I don’t have time to deal with your?—”
Wait.
Wait a fucking second.
Icy dread strokes down my spine. I feel graveyard chill all over, head to toe, inside and out. My mouth hardly cooperates, but I manage to rasp out, “… Who?”