Page 44 of Lethal Alliance

I’m fighting to keep my voice steady and even. So much rides on this discussion, on Roman’s ability to be a different man than those among whom he was raised.

“We come from a world where women stay in the background. Do as they’re told, accept that men will take care of business.” I hold his eyes. “But how did that work for my mother? For yours? Would things have been different if our fathers had listened to them? I’m not asking you to put me in danger, Roman, or to make me part of your business. But I spent years locked up in that compound with the Orlovs. Any plan you make will be better if you include me in it.”

I see the emotions warring in his eyes, and I understand them. Roman is a warrior. Even admitting he might have a vulnerability is difficult. Accepting help from a woman he believes is his job to protect is entirely counterintuitive.

But I’m long past diplomacy or playing the victim. I’ve seen too much.

I squeeze his hand, holding his eyes. “I don’t want to say things that will cause you pain.” He frowns, and I go on in the same low, steady tone. “But you need to know that Vilnus Orlov plays games, Roman. He played them with my mother, until he killed her. He played them with me until I almost lost my mind. He plays games with women—and girls—that he hides from others, even from his own men.”

I see the horrified flash of understanding in Roman’s eyes, the panic he can’t quite hide.

I nod. “The only reason Vilnus spared me from actual rape was because he was afraid of losing his chance at the vault. But he doesn’t need to protect Ofelia in the same way. He knows you’re going to come for her, but there’s no chance he’s going to allow you to take his only leverage, no matter how hard you come at him. He will do everything in his power to hide them from you. And believe me, Roman—it is Ofelia who will pay for any mistakes you make. She will pay in ways no man ever has to, and she will pay over and over, until Vilnus gets exactly what he wants.”

Roman is staring over my shoulder, his eyes blazing, mouth set in a thin line. “I’ll kill the bastard.”

“I know you will.” My immediate answer, and the fierce rage I can’t hide, breaks through Roman’s internal fury. “I know,” I say when he meets my eyes. “But killing Vilnus won’t mean a damned thing if Ofelia returns to us broken. I want him dead just as much as you do. More, perhaps.” His eyes narrow at the dark edge in my voice. “But more than that, I want Ofelia returned to us unharmed. And the best way to ensure that happens is to let Vilnus think he’s winning. Keep him happy until we have every fact at our disposal. Can you do that, Roman?”

His hands are stiff in mine, his eyes turbulent with barely suppressed fury, but after a time, he gives a curt nod.

“I can do that.” He leans forward and kisses me, his lips lingering for a long time. “I suppose,” he says slowly when finally he pulls back, “that we had better have a conversation with your father.”

I nod. “I think that would be wise.”

“Fine.” He stands up and moves to the door. “Set it up. I’ll go to the lab, and we’ll meet with him when I get back.”

14

ROMAN

Iride the MTT to the lab. Luis is taking Mickey and will meet us there. There’s no chance I’m leaving him out of this after our discussion yesterday.

But I need the freedom of the road to digest the past twenty-four hours. To make space for the planning that is coming.

I also know there’s no chance in hell I can trust myself to hold a civilized conversation after what Darya has just told me.

What the fuck did he do to her?

I kick the engine into gear with savage force, roaring onto the highway at enough speed to make an oncoming car swerve in alarm.

The scars on Darya’s back, carefully inked over, were already evidence enough that she’d suffered. Somehow, though, probably because the alternative was too dark to consider, I’d let myself believe they were a one-off incident, a warning of some kind.

The realization that Vilnus Orlov treated Darya as his own personal plaything, that he laid his hands on her body and threatened her in the most primal way a man can a woman, hardens the fury inside me to a lethal edge.

The thought of him doing the same, or even worse, to Ofelia, makes me want to wield that lethal edge with murderous insanity.

I’m going to tear that bastard to pieces with my bare hands.

Men like me take care of business. We keep our women safe. Even the thought of Darya being anywhere near the attack on the Orlovs makes me feel sick and ashamed.

And yet... she’s already in it. She’s already been not just near the situation, but further inside it than anyone else I know. She’s absolutely right about having knowledge that can help. And oddly, Iwanther input. I even want her to know about Mercura and what is at stake. I want to tell her how Mickey has, in barely a matter of weeks, become an integral part of my operation. Tell her that I can see him rising to take it over one day.

I roar out of the city and onto the mountain curves, leaning into every one, pushing my body and the bike to their limits.

After the devastation of the past days I can’t bear the thought of doing anything that will endanger the fragile connection between Darya and me. Despite the power of our connection, the bliss of losing myself inside her again, there’s still some odd tension I can’t quite put my finger on. There’s something self-contained in the way she holds herself, as if her attention is focused inward on something I can’t quite see. It frightens me, makes me wary. I pushed her away more savagely than most women would ever come back from. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lost part of her forever, if my words that night at the ball did more damage than she’s prepared to admit.

I push the bike just a bit harder, wind whipping at my body. I know I’m racing from the thought of Ofelia and Masha in the hands of Vilnus Orlov. I know I’m racing from even more than that.

I haven’t had time to process the DNA bombshell. Not really.

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