Page 8 of Lethal Alliance

I look at the other passport, the one Roman gave me.

I can’t use that either.

Roman has no reason to keep me safe anymore, no matter what his letter says. The man who wrote those words is gone. Whoever Roman was, whatever he felt for me, changed forever the moment that bomb went off. Now Roman is the killer he became long ago, determined to protect what is his.

That doesn’t include me. Not anymore. And after reading his letter, now that I understand at least part of his story, I wonder that he didn’t kill Papa the moment he learned our true identities.

Roman’s own father died to protect my family’s vault.

His mother was lost to him for the same reason.

My family is why Roman found himself orphaned on the Miami streets at ten years old.

Roman has no reason to love anyone named Petrovsky, and every reason to want us all dead.

I want to believe that Roman won’t hurt Papa, but I can’t know that. And despite what he’s written, I’m not at all sure Roman hasn’t been playing me this entire time, hiding me in the wings until the right time comes to use me.

Whatever the truth was before tonight, his final words left me with no illusions about how he feels now.

“So go on, then, Darya Petrovsky. Run. Run fast. Because if any harm has come to my children, I swear I’ll hunt you down and fucking kill you myself.”

I shiver, sick and cold inside.

I had thought myself alone during the years Papa and I ran from the Orlovs. Now I realize I never had any idea of what it means to be truly alone.

I can’t trust my brother. The man I love is a killer who believes I betrayed him. One who might also have been betraying me all along.

Which means the only thing left for me to do is disappear.

I try to force my shattered thoughts into some kind of order. Alexei’s ticket is in one hand, Roman’s ticket in the other. Oddly enough, though they are for different flights, they are both for the same destination: Zurich, Switzerland.

I have no intention of taking either flight.

But those watching me need to believe I’m on at least one of them.

And they will be watching.

Roman may despise me, but sooner or later, he’s going to want to know where I am. It’s the kind of man he is.

As for Alexei—I have to assume that he, too, has ways of monitoring my movements. The ticket he gave me is booked under the name on my new passport, the one Papa’s contact sent from Argentina. Alexei clearly knows a lot more than just how to find me at a ball, and that makes him dangerous.

From the ballroom to these storage lockers, my movements will be relatively easy to trace. This is the moment when it becomes more complicated, when I need to think like the fugitive I have been and must become again.

If it were just me running, I doubt I would even bother.

But it isn’t just me.

My hand steals over my belly.

Roman’s baby doesn’t deserve to suffer for my mistakes. I don’t have the right to risk the life of yet another child. I have to stay safe, not because my life is worth saving, but because the child inside me deserves the chance to live.

That thought gives me strength.

Think, Darya.

I can’t take my backpack through international security. There’s enough currency in there to set off every alarm in the place, even without the extra roll of cash from Roman.

But I need to board at least one of those flights.

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