Page 89 of Hero Worship

“Better than solid,” Xavier promised, zipping up the laptop bag. “Nikolai’s the best forger in France. Michael Laskin already has a full paper trail stretching back nineteen years. School records, vaccinations, medical history… Everything he needs to pass scrutiny.”

“Michael?” Xander asked just as the bathroom door opened.

“It was my grandfather’s name,” Misha volunteered. He looked smaller somehow in his off-brand clothes, but he’d refused to wear anything except oversized hoodies and worn jeans. After what he’d been through, I couldn’t blame him.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked Misha. “You don’t have to leave France. I know it’s home.”

“No,” Misha said firmly. “There’s nothing for me here and… I want to go with you. The vory, Nikolai made it clear it’s not safe for someone like me. That he could only protect me so much.”

“You’ll be welcome with us,” Xander declared. “Hell, Uncle Nikita’s bisexual and he runs the vory in Columbus. We’ve got every color of the rainbow now.”

“We’re basically the literal alphabet mafia at this point,” Xavier confirmed.

Some of the tension eased from Misha’s shoulders as Xander and Xavier started talking excitedly about the family waiting for him in Ohio. A family that would see him for exactly who he was rather than who they wanted him to be.

“You’ll be safe with the Laskins,” I promised. “They protect their own.”

“And now,” Xander said, throwing an arm around Misha’s shoulders, “you’re one of us.”

Misha nodded. “When do we leave?”

“Flight leaves in about six hours,” Xavier confirmed. “We have time to grab dinner and maybe see the Eiffel tower before we go, but by this time tomorrow, you’ll be home.”

Home. The word seemed to catch Misha off guard, making his eyes wet. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “All of you. For everything.”

Xander pulled Misha into a careful hug. “Welcome to the family. Hope you’re ready for the chaos.”

Spade Tower loomed againstthe Cincinnati skyline like a blade aimed at God’s throat. The early morning sun caught the glass and steel, making the whole building shimmer with deceptive beauty.

I fidgeted with the hem of my pleated skirt as we rode the elevator up to the executive floor. Beside me, Xavier was the picture of rebellious boredom in his tastefully ripped jeans and his leather jacket. He looked relaxed, hands in his pockets, one boot resting against the back wall of the elevator, though I could hear him opening and closing the lighter he kept in his pocket. Old habits died hard, especially for us.

Papa and Mom had met us at the airport, taken one look at Misha, and welcomed him with open arms. Mom insisted he stay as far away from Algerone and Lucky Losers as possible. Probably for the best. He’d been through enough trauma without adding corporate politics to the mix.

Ash tapped his fingers and let out a sigh. His anxiety was almost as strong as mine. We’d eliminated Roche, saved Misha, and exposed an international criminal network. But something told me Algerone wouldn’t care about all that. Merely completing the mission as assigned would never be good enough for him, not when he found out Ash and I were together.

“Stop freaking out,” Xavier said, rubbing his temples. “You’re giving me a migraine.”

“Stay out of my head,” I shot back, but there was no heat in it. After everything we’d been through in Paris, I couldn’t be pissed that he was being so overprotective.

“You know I can’t fucking help it.” His sigh was only slightly less frustrated than Ash’s had been. “It’s going to be fine. The mission was a success. Nikolai said he’d send a positive report. Even Algerone can’t argue with those results.”

“I’m not worried about the mission.” I glanced back at Ash.

“Whatever happens,” Ash said, reaching forward to take my hand, “I’ve got your back.”

The elevator dinged, the reflective doors sliding open to reveal Maxime’s perfectly composed face. Algerone’s personal assistant looked exactly as I remembered in his sleek suit, calculator eyes, and that particular mix of disapproval and devotion he always wore on his face.

His gaze swept over us, lingering on where Ash’s hand held mine. “Your father will see you now.”

I flipped him off automatically, earning an approving snort from Xavier and an exasperated sigh from Ash. Some things never changed, no matter how many monsters we hunted.

My biological father’s office was exactly what you’d expect from someone who ran an international mercenary operation. Floor to ceiling windows offered strategic views of the city skyline, bookshelves stocked with legal and political textbooks, a closed laptop sitting on his expensive mahogany desk. Everything spoke of power and control, carefully cultivated to project strength and to intimidate.

Just like the man himself.

He didn’t turn away from the window where he stood as we entered, remaining where he was with his hands folded behind his back. “Sit,” he commanded.

We sank into the chairs in front of his desk with me in the middle. The whole thing felt oddly like a weird parody of a family meeting, but there was nothing normal about any of this.

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