Page 7 of Lethal Alliance

Not in my worst nightmares could I ever have envisaged the devastating reality.

I’d known the Orlovs were coming for me. And I know, better than anyone, the extent of their evil.

I still never expected a bomb.

A bomb my brother knew about.

The nausea hits without warning. I run to the garbage can at the end of the line of lockers, making it just in time to retch up the bare contents of my stomach. I can still feel the aftermath of the juddering blast, smell the acrid scent of it on my hair.

Who was caught in that blast?

Who died because of me?

I clutch the cold steel, resisting the urge to sink to the floor and cling to it like a life belt.

There are cameras in here.

I can’t afford to lose it.

I force myself to turn and walk back to the locker. With hands that are ice-cold and shaking, I open the other envelope in my clutch. The one Alexei gave me.

I ignore the airline ticket and reach instead for the letter wrapped around it. Part of me wants to burn them both without even looking. But there’s no time for theatrics. No time for the rage and hurt.

I know all too well that there will be time enough for both, in the lonely days to come.

Instead I breathe deeply to calm the nausea and fury churning inside me and force myself to read.

My sister,

I hopeyou are reading this somewhere safe.

When you arrive at your destination, go to the address written on the back of your ticket. A friend of mine will contact you there.

Don’t be afraid. I wish I could explain it all to you in this letter, but what needs to be said is too dangerous to commit to paper. Please burn both the ticket and this letter as soon as you arrive.

Both, if found by the wrong people, will mean my death, and yours.

The rest must wait until my friend finds you. Please trust her and believe what she says.

Most of all, have faith.

We’re nearly home safe.

I crumplethe letter into a hard ball, trembling with anger and sadness.

If Alexei had truly wanted to keep the children safe, he would never have let them be in a ballroom with a bomb.

He used them to make me run.

Alexei knows that I would never allow the children to fall into the Orlovs’ hands, and he deliberately played on that. He used the one threat that he knew would make me obey his instructions without question. He told me that the only way to keep the children safe was to run—and so I ran, just like he intended.

But that doesn’t mean I have to run where he wants me to go.

I’m not the girl who fled Miami, blindly following the course set for me by my brother and father. I’m not the sister Alexei remembers, any more than he is the little brother I left behind.

It’s been over six years since my brother helped Papa and me escape. I know that Alexei is changed. I saw it in his face, heard it in the harsh tones of his voice. He is no longer the teenage boy I tried so hard to take care of.

He’s a man, one raised in the ruthless world of the Orlovs, subjected to God only knows what manner of torture. No matter how much I want to trust him, I can’t. Not after that bomb. Not after he put the children in danger.

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