Page 51 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

“Fuck, we have to go. Now.”

“But Brigitte—”

“Is not my priority,” I finish. “She can take care of herself.”

The car is in drive before my door is even closed. I fly diagonally across the lot and ramp over a curb to get to the road as fast as possible. All the while, I hear shots cracking off the asphalt.

Brigitte is driving just behind us, ducked down so she is barely visible above the steering wheel. At least she’s smart enough to shut up and drive like I told her to do.

“Don’t they know we have a baby in the car?” Arya cries, angling around in her seat to try and see what’s going on.

I laugh bitterly. “They don’t give a fuck. They’ll kill us all to keep me from regaining what’s mine.”

“Just resign, then! Why die for this?”

The cars have pulled out of the gas station and are on the road behind us—pinned behind a slow-moving semi-truck, thankfully.

“I’d rather die than be a coward. I won’t walk away from this. I can’t.”

“But you could. Other people have done it.”

“Other people are pussies.”

She snaps her head to me, nostrils flared. “Wanting to live doesn’t make someone a ‘pussy.’”

“We aren’t talking about this now. Even if it was possible, I’m not resigning. I’ll kill these men like I killed their friends today. Like I’ll kill anyone who comes for me tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel in fury.

“You killed…” Arya’s voice fades away before she clears her throat and tries again. “You were attacked today?”

“Yes, and I took care of the threat. Because that’s what I fucking do.”

We aren’t far from the highway. I take the ramp as fast as this shit heap of a vehicle will let me and merge into the traffic. Brigitte isn’t far behind.

We’re surrounded by other cars, but that doesn’t mean anything to someone whose job it is to take me out. They aren’t worried about the ramifications of killing innocent people or causing accidents. They’ll do whatever they have to do to complete their mission.

Which is why I’m surprised when the caravan doesn’t take the on-ramp for the highway, but instead keeps following the frontage road.

“What the fuck?” I mumble.

Arya spins around, trying to see what I’m seeing. “What?”

“They left. We aren’t being followed anymore.”

“We outran them!”

I shake my head. “No, we didn’t. They just… gave up. Something’s not right.”

It doesn’t make any sense. When Gennady calls to check on me half an hour later, he sounds relieved to hear my voice. Until I tell him what happened.

“Maybe they heard how we dealt with the guys at the diner and got scared,” he suggests. “That’s what you wanted to happen. Maybe they saw the example we made of their friends and decided to die another day.”

“Maybe.”

But something about the whole situation doesn’t sit right with me. It doesn’t make any fucking sense. And yet, as uneasy as I feel, I can’t help but be temporarily relieved.

For the time being at least, we’re all safe. Lukas is content in the backseat, Arya is unharmed, and I’m getting us all out of this shithole town.

Hopefully, better things await in Chicago.

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