Page 122 of Lethal Alliance

“You bastard!”

There’s a flurry of indistinct sounds, then the intercom cuts out abruptly, leaving Rosa and me staring at each other, white-faced, both of us pressed against the wall on either side of the intercom.

“Don’t open it,” Anton says warningly. “I’ve got Pavel on the line.” He holds up his phone. “Mak has reinforcements on the way. His first team was intercepted by Fedorov’s men, who stole their radios, then impersonated them to take out Bryce and most of his team. But their replacements are only minutes away.”

“By which stage my father will be dead.” I stare at the locked door with clenched fists, my heartbeat slow and painful.

Nobody tries to argue with me.

One man in a wheelchair, against an army of Fedorov’s killers?We all know the odds.

“Sergei wouldn’t want you to go out there.” Rosa grips my hand, tears rolling down her face. “He didn’t come so far, endure all he has, to watch you die, Darya. You have to honor his wishes.” Her eyes drop to my belly. “It isn’t just you now—”

“Don’t you think I know that!” I spin away from the door, passing a shaking hand over my face. I can’t cry. I’m too furious and too heartbroken. “What do they say about Roman?” I stare at Anton, who shifts uncomfortably. “Don’t lie to me,” I say in a low voice. “Tell Pavel I want to know what is happening in Miami.”

Anton and Karel exchange a look. Anton murmurs a question into the phone, then covers the receiver, his eyes dark.

“Roman missed the first extraction point,” he says reluctantly. “Pavel says they’re taking heavy fire.”

Rosa blanches. She staggers to the sofa and slumps heavily into it.

That means it’s possible nobody is coming for us.

I’m frozen by the door, straining for the slightest sound from beyond it, but there’s nothing. “How do we not have a video feed down here?” My body is rigid with frustration.

“Roman didn’t want one.” Karel looks at me apologetically. “In case the children were watching. He didn’t want them to see people get hurt.”

Yes, that sounds like Roman.

But if we survive this, we’re doing things differently. Our life is dangerous. That is the way it is. The only true protection is preparation and training. I put my hands over my belly, feeling the slight swell of our little Borovsky.

If we make it out of this, I swear silently,I will raise you to know our world—and to know how to meet it, whether you’re born a boy or a girl.

There has to be a way to live with our legacy and also to live in the world.

“God, I hate this,” I mutter. “Hiding behind a locked door like some kind of helpless victim.”

“Don’t blame Sergei, Darya.” Rosa’s voice is muffled behind her hands. “This isn’t his fault. None of it is.”

“I know that!” That’s the worst of it. After all my anger at his secrecy, hearing my father’s conversation with Fedorov made me realize, with heartbreaking clarity, that my father has only ever done what he thought best for everyone.

And now he is dying on the other side of that door.

I depress the button on the intercom. “Papa?” My voice breaks on the word.

For a long moment there’s nothing but dead silence. My fingers itch to open the door, but I’m more than aware of Anton and Karel watching me tensely, clearly ready to leap if I so much as reach for the keypad.

Then the intercom crackles to life, and a familiar, if unexpected voice, speaks uncertainly. “Darya?”

I stare at the intercom in shock. “Inger?”

I frown questioningly at Anton, who still has Pavel on the line. He murmurs into the phone then shakes his head at me, shrugging to indicate he doesn’t know what is happening.

“You have to open the door!” Inger’s voice is high and terrified. “Ilyan has wired me to a bomb, Darya. Please!” She’s sobbing. “He’s gone upstairs. If you don’t open the door, he’ll press the button and blow it apart. Your father will die. You could be hurt. My children will be left without a mother...” She begins crying in earnest.

“Papa.” My voice is shaking. “He’s still alive?”

Rosa swings around on the sofa, hope rising in her face.

---