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He whistles low under his breath. “Want me to call Konstantin?”
“No, Pavel. This time, you’re riding shotgun. Konstantin has his own mission.”
And while I’m going to collect what’s mine, I might just sneak up on him... see how deep he’s gotten himself into it.
Fuck. Now I’m sneaking up on my best friend. Jesus.
I’ve tried to stay out of her life, but every excuse I make to dig into her is just that—an excuse. My plans? They’ve gone completely off course. I’ve even aligned myself with the general.
And I can lie to myself all I want—it’s not about the treasure. It’s not about rebuilding the Dragunov legacy.
It’s about her.
From the moment I looked into her eyes in the middle of that road, something snapped loose inside me. Then fate threw her into my lap, and once I lost myself inside her...
Game over—my world, my plans shifted.
My denial hasn’t protected me—it’s just turned want into obsession.
And fuck the treasure. Fuck the bloodlines. Fuck the heir.
I want her.
And I’ll be damned if I let another man lay a hand on her again.
We’re five minutes from the private hangars when my phone lights up with a secured line.
General Morozov.
I accept the call, already annoyed at whoever’s interrupting my first good decision in weeks.
“General.”
“You need to get to RMSAD headquarters. Right now.”
His voice is low, cold, and controlled. The kind of tone that means shit’s hit the fan.
“Can it wait?” I ask. “I’m on my way to Vegas.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Are you already on the plane?”
“No,” I grit out. “I’m five minutes from the airport.” I feel the muscles in my jaw lock. “What’s going on?”
“It’s your sister.”
That stops me cold.
“Nadia broke into a secure RMSAD site. She’s in custody.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I slam my hand against the back of the seat. “What the hell was she thinking?”
“She wasn’t,” the General replies. “And while I understand your... priorities, Vegas can wait.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, my vision narrowing with fury. “I should leave her there and let her rot. She keeps pulling this reckless bullshit and expects me to clean it up.”
“We don’t need this kind of attention right now,” the general says quietly. “Get there. Handle it. Quietly.”
I stare out the window, the hangars drawing closer. Tara’s face flashes in my mind. Her lips. Her voice. The soft, forlorn last look she gave me before sneaking out of my room, thinking I was asleep.