Page 56 of Last Hand

The remote’s already in Igor’s hand. He clicks it without a word, and the screen lights up with a local news station—footage of smoke pouring from a burning building downtown.The camera shakes slightly as it zooms in on the green neon sign melting into charred rubble.

Verdigris.

The caption reads:Breaking – Explosion at Verdigris Nightclub. No casualties confirmed.

I already know what this means. My breath catches. Leone did this. Because if that was Santos why was everyone given a chance to get out alive.

Mikhail claps his hands once, a sharp crack. “He knew they would retaliate, and he was willing to burn his own empire to keep me happy. How fucking poetic.”

The men around him laugh. I stay still, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

He leans back, tossing the rest of his drink down his throat. “Soon the strip will be mine. That little piece of neon trash was the last show. Now it’s ashes. If Leone doesn’t retaliate, it will make him look weak. Santos will be gone next.”

He looks so pleased, so sure of himself. He doesn’t even glance at me when he gives the next order.

“Igor. Return her to the basement.”

My stomach drops.

Igor turns, his expression blank as always, yet there’s something different in the way he grips my arm.

“I—” I barely get the word out before his hand closes over my elbow like a vice.

“She needs rest,” Mikhail adds absently. “I need to be up early tomorrow.”

He stands, and Rebecca finally reappears from the hallway.

Mikhail rises from his seat and stalks toward her, cups the back of her neck, and kisses her with his teeth. It isn’t affection. It’s ownership. He grabs her ass with one hand and shoves her toward the stairs, and she stumbles up them.

“Get ready for me,” he growls. “I’m tired.”

She nods quickly and disappears up the steps without looking back. My stomach twists and for once I’m glad I will be in the basement not wanting to hear whatever he has planned for her.

Igor yanks me toward the basement door.

“Don’t,” I hiss under my breath, trying to twist free. “I can walk on my own, you don’t need to hold my hand!”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. I already know how this ends.

The door creaks open, and I’m pulled down the stairs into the dark before being thrown into the cell reserved for me.

THIRTEEN

Rebecca

Mikhail leaves just after lunch, pressing his lips against the twins’ soft heads with a tenderness that makes my skin crawl. Everything he touches becomes tainted, even innocence and if I don’t get them away from him, he’ll ruin them one day like he has done to me. His fingers find my lower back as he turns to go, heavy and possessive, like I’m just another asset in his inventory. I force my face into the blank mask I’ve perfected over these long years. Inside, my heart hammers like it’s trying to escape ahead of me.

“I’ll return before dinner,” he says, his smile thin. The words hang between us. His breath smells of the vodka he was drinking moments ago, expensive and strong.

He pulls Igor aside, muttering in Russian, a language I’ve learned to understand, though I pretend I don’t. “Watch them closely, most of the men are out scouting.”

Igor nods, his eyes flickering to me before returning to his boss. I keep my expression neutral, like I’m thinking about lunch preparations or laundry, anything besides what I have planned.

The black car crunches down the gravel drive, disappearing beyond the treeline. I count his departure. One-two-three-four…By the time I reach three hundred, my palms are slick with sweat.

Twenty minutes. I’ll wait twenty minutes before I make my move. Not so soon that it seems planned, not so late that I waste this precious window. The digital clock on the microwave glows green, marking time with infuriating slowness.

I wipe down the kitchen counter, fold dish towels, all the while mapping the location of each guard in my mind. The one by the hallway is the immediate problem. Young, new to Mikhail’s crew, with wandering eyes that have been following me since he arrived three weeks ago. Not Igor—he’s the smart one, stationed in the east wing with the girls and Fallon. No, this one’s different. Sloppy. Easily distracted.

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