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I turn one to press a kiss to her palm. “Always am, solnishko.” She shakes her head, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “Just...come back to me, okay?”

“I promise.” I lean in to capture her lips with mine.

The kiss is gentle at first, a mere brushing of lips, but quickly deepens as Vesper's fingers thread through my hair, pulling me closer. I back her against the door, one hand braced against the wood beside her head, the other cupping her waist. Her body melts into mine, familiar yet exhilarating, like coming home.

“Was that supposed to convince me you'll be careful?”

“No," I admit with a small smile. “That was just because I wanted to.”

She laughs softly, the sound warming something deep in my chest. “Good answer.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupts us. “Time to move out,” Z's voice calls through the wood, followed by retreating footsteps.

Vesper sighs, reluctantly stepping away from me. “Remember your promise, Oz.”

“Nothing will ever take me away from you, solnishko.”

OSCAR

I've been watchingthe building for twenty-three minutes, and not a single soul has entered or left. That could be good or bad, depending on whether I'm walking into an ambush or a genuine meeting. The neon sign from the convenience store across the street casts an eerie blue glow across my dashboard, illuminating the gun resting on my thigh.

“Alex, you copy?”

“Loud and clear, Oz,” Alex's voice crackles in my ear. “Perimeter's quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me.”

I check my watch. Ten o’clock on the dot. “Heading inside.”

The leather seat creaks as I shift, tucking the gun into my ankle holster as I step my left leg out of the car. I adjust my pants to cover it. I’ve never openly carried in front of Ricky and keeping that fact I am armed to the teeth with knives sheathed under my jacket hidden from him will be hard.

The night air hits me as I exit the car, carrying the faint scent of garbage and cigarettes. I scan the street one last time, noting the blind spots as I walk.

“Got a couple of heat signatures in the building,” Alex declares through my earpiece. “Only one on the third floor. Guessing that is your buddy, Ricky.”

The building's entrance reeks of piss and desperation. The security door's lock broken long ago, hanging uselessly from its housing. I push through, finding myself in a dimly lit lobby with peeling wallpaper and a bank of mailboxes, half of them hanging open like broken jaws.

No elevator. Of course.

The stairwell echoes with my footsteps despite my attempt to move quietly. Each floor I pass has its own distinct scent –cooking spices on the first and marijuana on the second. By the time I reach the third floor, the scent has shifted to something chemical, acrid.

The hallway stretches before me, lit by dim fluorescents that cast sickly silhouettes across the faded carpet. Apartment 3B is at the far end. I approach cautiously.

Three sharp knocks on the door. I wait, counting my heartbeats.

Nothing.

I knock again, harder this time.

Still nothing. Unease crawls up my spine as I reach for the handle, thankful for the leather gloves that will conceal myprints. The knob turns without resistance, and the door swings inward on silent hinges.

“Door's open. Heading in.” I leave it cracked behind me as I slip inside. A quick escape route if things go south. "

“Talon is switching positions. I can see you. The other heat signature is straight ahead of you. Off to the left a bit. It’s not reading as hot as the other one.”

Well, that can’t be good.

The apartment is dim, illuminated only by the glow of a single lamp in the corner. The place reeks of stale cigarettes and something else—something iron tinged that makes my stomach clench.

That scent—there’s no mistaking it— it's fresh blood.