Page 51

Yes, Boss. Leaving now.

Good. That meant I could focus on the problem at hand without worrying about Benjamin. I dialled Roxie next.

“Hey, doll face, what can I do for you this fine eve?”

“Roxie, the warehouse at the docks is compromised. Get me footage of the area and find out what happened.” I ended the call, not in the mood for idle chitchat. “Let’s go.”

I jumped in the car with the others. Vlad drove, the wheels squealing on the tarmac as he left the hotel behind.

My phone pinged with a video from Roxie. It showed a hooded figure casually leaving the building with a wave up at the camera. I couldn’t see under his hood but I knew it was him. My mysterious Ronin. A few seconds later my screen filled with the bright light of the explosion and the camera feed went blank.

Chapter Seventeen

Benji

“What the hell is happening?” I asked Acheron as we returned to the Morozov Mansion.

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice a little higher pitched than normal. Nothing, my ass.

I followed him into the lounge where he went straight to one of the cabinets and poured himself a drink. “Don’t lie to me, Acheron. We were having fun and then all of sudden we had to leave. Where’s Damyr? Where are the others?”

He drained his glass and turned to face me, his expression suspiciously blank. “Just looking at something.”

“Are they in danger?” Fuck, why did my insides feel like they were being pulled out in different directions?

“They’re always in danger,” he said, his words clipped.

Urgh, this was ridiculous. “Enough with the fucking riddles. Just tell me.”

“It’s not my place, Benji. There are secrets here that I can’t—”

The door burst open, and Vlad rushed in, Damyr in his arms covered in blood.

“Holy fuck!” I scrambled towards them. “Put him on the sofa.”

He did as I asked and Damyr grunted in pain as his body hit the couch. My God. My stomach dropped as I got my first close look at his injuries. His chest was in ribbons, completely cut to shreds.

“He needs a hospital,” I said, my training kicking in as I catalogued the damage.

Several shrapnel wounds.

Gunshot wound to right shoulder and upper thigh.

Possible stab wound to lower abdomen.

“No,” Damyr gasped, his face contorted with pain. “No… hospital.”

I brushed his hair from his forehead as I knelt next to him. “Damyr, please. You need a hospital.”

Aleksey stormed into the room, gun waving in his hand, his blonde hair tumbling around his face in a tangled mess. “Where the fuck is the doctor?”

“I’ll live. It’s just a scratch,” Byron grumbled as he hobbled into the room, his hand clutching his side. I could see blood seeping through his fingers.

“At least your scars will match,” Aleksey stated with a sly grin whilst Byron tentatively perched on one of the armchairs.

“Fuck you, Aleksey,” Byron hissed.

I zoned them out. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the way Damyr was bleeding all over his sofa. There was so much blood.