Page 83 of Luka

“But,of course, because I was born into this world, I’ll waste every breath knowing that no matter what excuses I give on your worthless, incompetent behalf, you’ll still be put to death. All I can do is hope that your death is both satisfyingly ear-shrieking and proceeds mine.”

Two seconds pass without his reaction like he simply doesn’t comprehend my words. I try to go over my words, searching for ones outside his comprehension.

Worthless.

Incompetent.

Surely Mario is well versed in these. Then again, they’d never send a novice to dothisjob.

“Descending!” the pilot on this small plane calls before the plane tips.

I clap my palms on the floor to brace myself while my pulse quickens. Mario doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.Stilldoesn’t react.

“What I’m trying to say, Mario,” I spit, trying my best to ignore the fear curling its way inside my mind. “Is that I hope you die painfully, and I hope I get to watch.”

He nods slowly, his lips pursing. “I have very bad news for you, Princess…”

I blink at him, his choice to switch to English puzzling me as much as the words themselves. They’re grammatically sound, which is strange for Mario. He grew up poor in a rural part of Mexico where Spanish was primarily spoken, so he’s always struggled with the language.

Hashe been practicing?

The plane touches ground, making my body jolt and my hands cling to a groove in the side panel. I listen for Mario to finish his sentence, even while panic at being this close to the Mendozas creeps higher and higher, but his words don’t come.

When the plane comes to a stop, he takes me by my hair and hauls me to my feet. Two guns aim at me as Mario leads us out of the plane where a blue SUV awaits.

A man opens the back door as Mario leads me to it and says something to my handler that makes my gut lurch and my head spin. Mario shoves me inside when I hesitate getting into the vehicle.

I don’t ask him about the driver’s words on the way to wherever they’re taking me because if I open my mouth, I might scream. Or puke. But I can’t get them out of my head.

“Welcome back, Señor Mendoza.”

26

LUKA

If I didn’t knowfor certainthat my car wasn’t capable of blowing past the Petrov Mansion gate, I wouldn’t bother slowing down.

My teeth grinding, I lay on my horn while tapping my breaks, willing the gate to open. This could be all in vain. Vitaly might not even be home.

Blood drains from my face at that thought, but my prickly fingers never unwind from the wheel.

I’m not too late.

I’mnot.

The gate slowly cranks open, letting me peel through it toward the mansion. Vitaly doesn’t drive his own car, just whatever SUV is available that day, so it’s impossible to say if he’s here. Mila’s silver BMW, however, is parked out front. I whip behind her then hurry inside, not looking back even when Denis, a fellow guard, asks if there’s an emergency.

I make a beeline for Vitaly’s office, feeling the slightest bit of relief when I find him there, along with Mila. But it’s temporary. I’m far off from where I want to be.

The Pakhan sits behind his desk, his head turning from Mila as I storm toward them. No expression crosses his face, not evenanger or surprise. For a moment that I just stand in front of his desk, panting, it’s distracting. It makes me wonder if he belongs in my family after all.

“I kidnapped the daughter of a cartel drug lord named Ricardo Valdez. I need you to get him on the phone.Now.”

Vitaly’s brow lifts as he turns to Mila. I’m too afraid to look at her, so I keep my eyes on him.

“You have …a lotof nerve showing up here right now,” Mila says with every bit of self-righteousness that I’d expect. “And then you think you can makedemands? Are you?—”

“Can we talk alone?” I ask, never taking my eyes off Vitaly.

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