Page 88 of Bride of Vengeance

"Positions?" Mikhail asks.

"Scattered. Professional placement—multiple sight lines, overlapping fields of fire. They're expecting a fight."

Boris adds through the comm. "My teams are in position. Just say the word."

I check my weapon one more time. The wire in my bra feels heavier tonight, like it knows what's coming. "Remember the plan. We need Harrison's confession before—"

"Before we spring the trap. I know." Mikhail's jaw is tight. "If Pavel makes a move toward you—"

"You'll control yourself and stick to the plan."

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Mikhail—"

"If Pavel threatens you, I'll kill everyone in that building."

"That's not—"

He kisses me, hard and desperate. "Your safety trumps everything else."

Before I can argue, Harrison's text comes through:

Time's up. Inside. Both of you. Or your mother pays the price.

"Showtime," I mutter.

We exit the car slowly, hands visible. The warehouse door is already open—an invitation.

The inside is exactly what you'd expect—concrete floors, metal rafters, shadows that could hide an army. Harrison stands in the center, trying to look confident, but I can see the nervous energy in his shoulders.

And behind him, partially hidden by shadow but unmistakably real—Pavel Volkov.

"Agent Castillo," Harrison says. "And the infamous Ghost. Together, as expected."

"I did what you asked," I say, moving slightly away from Mikhail like we discussed. "I brought him."

"Yes, you did." Harrison's smile is cold. "The question is why."

"You know why. You have leverage."

"Your mother. Yes." He pulls out his phone, shows me a photo that makes my blood freeze. My mother at her apartment, unaware she's being photographed. "One call, and ICE raids her building. Finds irregularities in her paperwork that weren't there yesterday."

"You bastard—"

"Careful, Agent Castillo. Or should I call you Mrs. Kozlov? How quickly you fell for the enemy."

Mikhail steps forward, and immediately red dots appear on his chest. Laser sights from hidden shooters.

"Ah ah," Pavel says, finally stepping into the light. His scarred face is even worse than at Pier 17—the water escape must have aggravated old wounds. "No sudden moves, Ghost. My men are jumpy."

"Pavel." Mikhail's voice could freeze blood. "I thought I smelled something rotting."

"Still charming as ever." Pavel moves closer, favoring his left leg. "Tell me, how's my dear Mila? And those beautiful twins of hers?"

The threat is clear. Mikhail's hands clench into fists.

"Don't," I warn quietly.