Page 71 of The Russian Retribution

Leaving here without security would be suicide. I’d be handing things over to Viktor without any kind of struggle. But the more I mull it over, the more my choices seem limited. Whoever Cormac wants me to meet clearly has some terms they’d like to set.

This has to be some kind of test.

Rising from my lounge chair, I head inside my room and cross to my jewelry box on top of my dressing table.

Inside the secret drawer, hidden right at the back, is the letter opener I used to kill my father.

Throwing it away felt like a bad idea, considering how good this family is at finding evidence, so I held on to it with the plan of getting rid of it later.

Much later.

But later never came.

The dried blood on the blade is dark brown now, and the scent of iron is sharp. Briefly closing my eyes, I’m suddenly back in my father’s office while blood spouts from his neck.

I have no choice. If I have any hope of surviving, I need to do this.

With the weapon secure in a plastic bag and my phone tucked into my pocket, I slip out of the estate.

I just hope I get there in time.

29

ERIK

“You’re late.” Viktor glares up from the table as I arrive.

“You’re lucky I’m here at all,” I reply sharply. “I have better shit to be doing.”

“Better than sitting down with me?” Viktor’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been dodging my calls for days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

I shrug, sliding my jacket from my shoulders and placing it on the back of the wooden chair. “Stuff.” I won’t go into detail.

The last thing I want to talk about is how I’ve spent the past few days trying to follow Anastasia and keep her safe from a distance, but it’s been a struggle. Being banned from the estate means I’ve been resorting to snippets of information leaked from the few friends I still have on the security team. Other than that, Anastasia hasn’t been leaving the estate.

She’s scared. She must be.

She’ll be waiting for me to tell Viktor the truth, but I’m not going to.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” calls Hazel from the bar.

“Not tonight, thanks.” Taking my seat, I lean back slowly. “So, what’s so urgent?”

“Are you serious?” Viktor’s eyes narrow. “You don’t call. You don’t write. I was beginning to fear that Anastasia had you killed! Did it bring you joy to worry me so much?”

My eyes narrow a fraction. “You were that worried?”

“Of course I was! I have no fucking clue what’s going on. She fired you and you didn’t immediately come to me?”

My eyes drop to the coaster sitting in front of me and I twirl it between my fingers. “I had some things to figure out.”

“Like?”

“Viktor, do you remember all those months ago when the parking lot was blown up?”

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