Page 27

What if Erin was the distraction?

I grit my teeth and force myself to remain on the right side of calm. My sister’s out in that melee, but Max is with her, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders. She’s the only reason I’d panic and the very reason I can’t.

I search for them, making my way from the corner where I was with Erin, and take in the scene before me.

Where did I see them last? Up the back to the right,talking to some older people, Max’s boss and I don’t know who else. No one of importance to me. No rival bratva.

Shit. Is this bratva related? It could be, but to cross me on the evening of Alina’s wedding is a death wish for whoever’s behind it. So, that means someone big trying to rise up and take my empire or someone I’ve never heard of. Someone from Russia herself, perhaps?

Or a robbery gone wrong? There’s a lot of money in here tonight. Jewels, for starters, and important people who could go for a pretty ransom.

I don’t even know which I prefer, I think, making my way to where I last saw my sister. One is deadly, but I usually know how they operate, so it could be a renegade, and the latter is just an unknown. Both are dangerous, both something I need to stop.

And where is Alina?

People are running, most to the exit, and another scream fills the air to the left of me and it sets my heart hammering and I turn.

“Demyan! Demyan!”

Alina.

Terror rips into me as I push people out of the way to get to where I heard her, but there’s too many, and the scream goes up again. “Demyan!” This time behind me.

I spin and scan the crowd frantically, trying to spot her or Max. Something to let me know where to run. But there’re too many people.

As I listen and make my way toward the area the two screams rose from, knowing she might not be there anymore, I scan continuously and place that call to my second-in-charge, Ilya. “Backup, now,” I snap in Russian.

This is a fucking wedding, not a meeting for factions. It’s meant to be a day of love and peace, and I don’t have my fucking gun. Alina insisted no weapons. On me.

Even if this isn’t bratva, I should have ignored Alina and armed myself and the guards to the teeth. But the guards I have weren’t allowed—her orders again—and while I broke that, they’re on the down-low, so why…

Unless they were the recipients of the gunshots. Fuck. Fuck. And fuck.

I call Ilya again. “Armed to the fucking teeth.”

“Got it,” he says as I hang up.

Men will be coming to meet me, and they’ll have weapons. All I’ve got is a knife, so I pull that, ready to pop open the switchblade.

I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not good.

Oh fuck, there are a few people on the ground not moving. Two are my men. I grab the gun from Gregov’s dead hand and check it before sliding it into my waistband in easy reach. I keep hold of the knife. It’ll be deadlier in close combat. If it comes to that. And if I need the gun…

I almost trip over a body. A woman in a purple dress. And then, just beyond her, I spot a familiar form.

Max.

Alina’s fiancé.

The love of her life.

He’s on the floor, not moving, and I reach him in record time, my heart trying to break free. “Shit. Fuck.”

Blood seeps and pools around him from several bullet wounds to the chest. I drop, heart racing to feel for a pulse. But he’s cooling already, and his eyes are open, unseeing.

Max is already gone.

“Sorry, Max,” I mutter, getting up and frantically searching for my sister. Where the hell is she?