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He roars and grabs her. She slams into the wall.

“Let her go!” someone screams.

It’s not Rafail. It’s not Rodion.

It’s Matvei.

His gun is drawn. His eyes are lethal.

And he’s charging…

For me.

It’schaos.

I wish I had a weapon.

Then something drops out of Cillian’s pocket. A thumb drive?

I snatch it and shove it into my pocket just as he slams me into the wall. My skull cracks against concrete, and stars bloom in my vision.

Matvei’s gun is pointed straight at Cillian. His eyes are wild, glass shattering around us, people screaming as they scatter.

“You broke the fucking alliance when you took my woman!” he roars.

Then he pulls the trigger.

The shot jerks Cillian’s arm, but he doesn’t stop. He whips his arm around again, aims, and fires. Another shot cracks through the air—this one hits him square in the chest.

Cillian’s shot goes wide.

I scream as the woman who came to see me crumples to the floor. Another scream tears through the bar, and then there’s no more waiting. Just bullets, one after the other. Matvei empties the entire cartridge into Cillian, a single-minded execution.

I hit the floor, crawling toward the fallen woman, trying to lift her, when someone slams into me. My vision skews, colors warping, noise fading. My head… Did I get hit?

Matvei keeps firing. His body is trembling with fury, and his mouth is twisted with something feral. An avenging angel in black emptying hell into Cillian’s chest until the man’s eyes go vacant, bleeding out onto the floor.

Then Vadka is beside me, gasping, his hands trembling as he lifts the woman’s limp body into his arms. And then he breaks. Sobs rip out of him, uncontrollable. Seeing a big, scary, grown man on his knees weeping like a child breaks my heart.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

The bartender kneels beside them, hands shaking, whispering prayers or curses or both. Tears stream down her cheeks.

But me? I’m stuck. Frozen.

What just happened?

“Come with me,” Matvei says, pulling me to my feet, his voice a low growl. “You’re safe now. Come with me. I’m not ever letting you go.”

I don’t even know the woman. But she’s dead. She’s gone. Just like Cillian. The bartender lets out a keening wail, voice rising over the carnage. I’m crying freely now, barely aware of what he’s saying.

Matvei pulls me through the back door fast.

“My brothers will handle it,” he says, quieter now. Controlled. “We’re going home.”

My voice trembles. “His phone… he had an app. It would’ve triggered a bomb.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “You got the phone. You did good. You did so good.”