Page 64 of Lethal Alliance

Alexei’s sparrow isn’t the broken-winged mark of a runaway. It’s a full-blooded sparrow, eyes bright and beak closed.

A sparrow that has drunk blood. One that sees everything, but says nothing.

The Orlovs only give that tattoo to their closest, most trustedvor.To men who’ve killed for them.

Whatever Alexei Petrovsky once was, he’s an Orlov now.

And he’s holding my daughters inside a locked room that is wired to explode the minute anyone breaks into it.

Alexei Petrovsky is a fucking dead man. Whether he gives me the key to the vault or not.

For all I care, the vault can blow sky fucking high.

Let’s be honest. Darya’s brother or not, I’ve known since before the ball that it was only a matter of time before I put a bullet through that prick’s head.

Watching Darya relive the years she spent as the Orlovs’ prisoner in that fucking compound almost drove me mad. It’s bad enough knowing how she got the scars on her shoulder. Seeing the place where it happened—not to mention seeing my own girls in that same goddamn room—ripped my heart out.

That missing doorknob in her bedroom, the realization that Orlov had access to her at any time of the day or night, sends me into a cold-blooded ocean of rage I can barely contain. The mere thought of that first escape attempt, of her wheeling Sergei’s unconscious body out of the compound and trying to run with Orlov’s men following her, is worse than any nightmare. I thought she’d been tattooed with the broken-winged sparrow as a warning. That was bad enough. Knowing it was carved as a punishment is even worse.

How the fuck did she survive that?

The endless years of constant fear, of never knowing when they were going to invade her bedroom, come for her?

I can’t prevent the shudder of icy fear that goes through me even imagining it. My years on the streets were hard, the nights lonely and full of fear.

But whatever I endured pales in comparison to what Darya lived through.

No death can ever avenge what those fuckers did to her. What they’re doing to my girls now.

I grip the steering wheel hard enough to break the fucking thing. I wish I was on my MTT. Right now I crave the mindless escape of speed and wind.

I need to plan.

I’m not a man who likes waiting. We’ve got the layout of the compound now, got the codes to the tunnels, and I know where the girls are. Waiting until Makari arrives tomorrow is going to be the longest fucking night of my life.

I’m almost relieved when the phone rings. I hit the answer button. “You’re on speaker in the car,” I snap at Dimitry. “Darya’s with me.”

I don’t want to risk him saying anything that will upset her any more than she already is.

“I was hoping you might have time to meet me at the warehouse.” The careful way he words his request puts my teeth on edge.

Fucking Nikolai.I forgot all about the prick. I feel a flash of irritation.

“I thought I told you to handle it.”

“This is me doing that.” Dimitry’s flat tone is its own message.

“Fine. I’ll take Darya home, then come.” There’s a small sound from Darya beside me. I turn to her, trying to soften my face.

“Abby,” she whispers, and that one word is so full of quiet desolation it needs no other explanation.

I lean toward the phone. “Your girlfriend needs to come to the penthouse.” I give it to him in a clipped tone that should communicate that I’m not fucking about. “Tell her to pack a bag so she can stay a few days.”

“I can keep Abby safe—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Abby’s safety.” I hear the savagery in my voice, but right now I just don’t care. “Darya needs her, so tell her to come.”

Dimitry pauses just long enough to let me know I’ve trodden very close to a dangerous line. I can’t blame him. I also can’t fucking help it, not at the moment. “Boss,” he says eventually. He hangs up without waiting for me to end the call.

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