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Katya.

I need to protect her.

God, what was I doing? How did I ever think I could possibly hurt her? Releasing her throat completely, I shift to pull her away from the door. Even this feels wrong. She should be attacking me. My little river otter would fight back. But instead, her hands are searching my body—my back, my pants.

“You don’t have a gun?” she whispers.

“No. I left it behind.” I don’t know why. I normally travel with it. Tonight I wanted to feel invincible, but intentionally didn’t bring my gun. Why?

The screams and gunfire creep closer.

“They’re still in the ballroom,” she whispers. “We need to get out of here.”

Doors open, followed by gunfire, probably still three doors away.

“Listen to me.” Her voice commands attention. She pulls me away from the door and presses me to the far-left side of the closet. The gunshots grow louder.

“One door away. When the door opens, you stay completely still. Understand?”

No. I need to protect her. What is happening?

The doorknob turns, and light fills the small space. There’s a crash, followed by a grunt and two rapid-fire shots. Two blurs of motion—one falling to the ground, the other stepping into the light. Another two rapid shots.

I blink as my brain buffers, trying to translate what it’s seeing. There’s a body in a black suit on the ground, blood pooling beneath it. Katya bends down in the doorway, hunched over. No—she’s hurt.

But her arm whips back, and she hands me a gun.

“Here.”

A second body lies in a heap in the hallway. Katya stands with blood speckled across her face. She takes a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m a liar.” She checks the chamber of the gun, takes another breath, assesses the situation. “But I sure as hell haven’t been trying to keep you and your family alive just to screw it up after you dumped that conniving bitch.”

What?

“Stay close, and I’ll get you out of here.”

What? What the hell is happening?

The hallway is a dead end. The only way out is back through the ballroom. She moves quickly and silently, with her hand on my arm. Before we enter the room, she whips around and puts both hands on my cheeks, her gun still hot against my skull.

“Do not look at the bodies. You’re going to focus on me and getting out. Do you understand?”

I nod.

She drops her hands and presses her ear. “Blackbird, under attack, send backup.” She freezes, waiting for a response, but flinches. “Fuck.” She presses her ear again. “Markus, where are you?”

For the first time, her voice wavers.

“Anyone?”

She closes her eyes, and her chest rises and falls as she collects her thoughts.

“I’m going to try to save as many guests as I can.”

She starts to turn the corner but her hand slams into my chest. Its the universal sign for stop right the fuck where you are.

“Change of plans. I’m getting both of us the hell out of here. There’s a clear path to the glass door leading to the balcony.”

Once I step out, I see why she changed her plan. Bodies are everywhere. On the far side of the room, two men fire at a man pinned to the wall. Katya curses and fires her gun. One of the men drops instantly. The other turns in our direction.