Page 62

Five minutes. That's what I promised Cormac. I need to keep Petrov talking until then.

"Do you know what your sister meant to me?" Petrov asks, his voice dropping. "She was the only person who understood what it means to be cast aside, overlooked."

"Siobhan's insane. She always was."

"She's brilliant. Visionary. She saw what your brother couldn't—that the future belongs to those bold enough to take it."

I scoff. "She's a jealous bitch who couldn't stand that our father chose Cormac to run things instead of her."

Petrov's face hardens. "Your father was a fool. Just like Cormac. Just like you."

"Maybe. But I'm still standing here. And soon, you won't be."

Confusion crosses his face. "What are you?—"

The windows explode inward. Smoke grenades hit the floor, hissing as they release thick clouds. Cormac's men, right on time.

I dive for cover as gunfire erupts. Petrov fires wildly, the bullet hitting the concrete where I stood a second ago. His men scatter, yelling in Russian and firing blindly through the smoke.

I pull the knife from my boot and move through the smoke. I spot one of Petrov's guards just ahead of me. I drive the knife into his neck before he even knows I'm there. He drops without a sound.

Around me, Cormac's men fight Petrov's, precise and deadly. I stay low, looking for Petrov in the chaos.

I spot him heading for a side door, two guards covering him. I follow, ducking behind shipping containers and old equipment.

Outside, the night air is crisp, the sounds of gunfire muffled behind us. Petrov moves toward a waiting car, his guards checking the perimeter.

I strike the first guard from behind, using my knife to slash across his hamstring. He crashes to the ground with a howl. Before the second guard can turn, I'm on him, driving my fist into his throat. He staggers back, choking.

Petrov pulls his gun again, but I'm already moving. I tackle him to the ground, the impact sending a wave of pain through my injured shoulder. We roll across the gravel, fighting for control.

He's strong, but I've spent years in fighting rings. I pin him down, my knife at his throat.

"Wait," he gasps. "We can make a deal."

"I don't make deals with men who threaten my family."

"Your sister—I can tell you where she is. Cormac lied to you."

I press the knife harder, drawing blood. "What are you talking about?"

"She's not in any facility. He's keeping her at the old hunting lodge. Ask yourself why."

My hand stops. Could Cormac have lied? No. This is just Petrov trying to save himself.

"You're lying."

"Am I? Why would I lie when I'm about to die? Think, Donovan. Why would Cormac keep her alive when you asked him not to kill her? What does she know that he wants?"

The doubt creeps in. Cormac's always had his secrets, his own agenda. But he wouldn't lie to me. Not about this.

"You're out of time," I tell Petrov.

Fear flashes in his eyes. "Your brother's empire is built on blood. Your father's, his rivals', even family. You think you're different? You have the same darkness in you. I see it right now."

"I never claimed to be different." I lean closer. "But I protect what's mine."

His eyes widen as I drive the knife home. A quick, clean death. More than he deserves.