Page 91 of Ruthless Salvation

“You are willing to send them away and face me all alone?” He studied me as though I were a rare two-headed snake he couldn’t figure out. Was I a defective mutation or a newly evolved species posing a special danger?

“What choice do I have? I’d rather some of them make it out of here alive, and you clearly have the advantage.”

“You see that, yet you are not willing to walk away? You will sacrifice yourself, yes?”

“Damyon, we both know the score. You aren’t going to leave me alive to come after her.”

He gave an impish smile and shrugged. “You are too right. It cannot be allowed.”

I nodded gravely. “Let them go, and it’s over. You won.”

“Winning would mean I had faced someone worthy of calling an adversary. You are nothing but a waste of my time.” His gaze lifted to a point above my head. The look was a signal.

A frenzy of action exploded in a span of seconds before returning to relative silence just as quickly. Gunfire rang out, echoing harshly off the tall buildings around us. Empty hands lifted to the sky, and bodies dropped to the ground.

Damyon was right. It was a slaughter more than a fight, only … not in the way he’d intended.

Every one of his personal guards was dead. Boris's men were the only Russians left standing, and their guns were aimed at Damyon. He’d been double-crossed and was completely surrounded.

Seeing his loss play out in real time, Damyon lunged. I’d shifted while the shots rang out, allowing him enough access to grab ahold of Storm’s wrist and yank her out from behind me. In one swift motion, he spun her around and pulled her against him like a shield, a glinting switchblade at her throat. Panic made his unnaturally pale eyes look downright demonic.

He bellowed at Boris’s men in Russian before shifting into English, spittle flying in the air. “Pick up your weapons, youfucking cowards.”

I tsked, slowly shaking my head. “It’s so hard to get good help these days.” I looked at the half a dozen Russians standing idly in the area. “Gentlemen, give my compliments to Boris.”

They nodded, then disappeared, leaving Damyon alone in the lion’s cage.

I continued unhurriedly, a cat toying with its supper. “You promised Boris you weren’t here for business, Karpova. He wasn’t too pleased when I brought him information about the new skin trade arrangement you’d made here in town. It’s understandable that this would all come as a shock to you. How could you have known that I knew? Your home office is a pile of charred splinters at the bottom of the marina. You thought my attack on your boat was personal, but everything I did was strategic. Did you actually think I was stupid enough toaccidentallylet my car get caught on marina security footage?” I shook my head in mock disappointment. “All of it was strategy, but your ego was too inflated to see it. And now, you’ve backed yourself into a very painful corner.”

The look in his eyes reminded me of an injured cat cornered by a pack of dogs. Escape was impossible, and he knew it.

“You think you’re so clever, but all I ever wanted is right here,” he hissed. “If I go to hell, I will take her with me.”

I chuckled, truly amused. “Good luck with that.”

Damyon stilled. I could almost see the wheels in his head chugging along as he processed his confusion. He spun his captive around, accidentally yanking off her wig in the process.

Shae flashed a wicked grin.

Lightning fast, she swept his legs out from under him, then used the ground as leverage to disarm him by breaking his wrist with a sickening crack.

The great Russian Shadow wailed in pain as I approached and stood over him.

“You may own half of Moscow, but this isourfucking city. You’renothingto us.”

Present

Shots rangout from somewhere down below, but up on the roof, it was impossible to tell who was firing or what had happened. My imagination played out every horrifying situation possible. I would have gone to the railing and tried to learn more if Jolly would have let me.

His scathing glare told me to forget about it.

We hunkered down behind a large block of ducting where Jolly could peek around the corner at the door, but someone exiting the roof stairwell wouldn’t see us. I felt like I’d lived and died three lifetimes up on that roof.

My hands were so sweaty they tingled, and my heart was ten miles into a marathon sprint.

When Jolly’s phone began to buzz, I had to fight back the urge to yank the phone from him.

“Yeah?” He nodded. Once. Twice. “Will do.” Conversation over.

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