Page 106 of Cursed

That’s when I see her—my best friend, bloodied and terrified, being dragged backward by one of Orlov’s men. He has a gun pressed against her temple.

“Nobody move!” he shouts. “Or I paint the garden with her brains.”

Landon freezes, his eyes locking with mine. I can read the calculation there—he’s too far away to reach them before the trigger is pulled.

But I’m not.

Without thinking, I drop to the ground and grab a broken piece of garden statuary. The man’s attention is on Landon and his brothers—the real threats. He doesn’t see me inching closer along the hedge line.

“Let her go,” Landon demands, keeping the gunman’s focus.

I’m close enough now. Jolene’s eyes widen as she spots me, but she has the presence of mind not to react.

In one fluid motion, I launch myself forward, swinging the stone hard against the man’s knee. Bone cracks. He howls, his grip on Jolene loosening just enough.

“Duck!” I scream at Jolene, who drops to the ground as I slam the stone against the gunman’s head.

The gunman crumples to the ground, his weapon skittering across the stone path. I grab Jolene and pull her toward the cover of a nearby hedge, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods shakily. “You came for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Landon appears beside us, his expression unreadable as he studies me. “That was...” he pauses, holstering his gun. “Impressive. You didn’t hesitate.”

“She’s my friend,” I say simply, as if that explains everything.

“Most people freeze in combat situations. You didn’t.” His voice drops lower. “You’re always full of surprises, little butterfly.”

The moment breaks as Xavier, Knox, and Vane converge on our position. Their tailored suits are torn and bloodied. Knox tosses Landon an extra magazine for his weapon.

“Orlov’s men are down,” Xavier reports. “But the man himself is missing.”

“Not anymore,” a heavily accented voice calls from the center of the garden.

We turn to see Ilya Orlov stepping into the moonlight. His silver hair gleams, and the hard lines of his face are carved deeper by shadows. But it’s what he holds in his hand that makes my blood run cold—a small black device with a blinking red light.

“A detonator,” Vane hisses.

“Very observant,” Orlov smiles thinly. “I’ve always believed in insurance policies. This entire garden is wired with enough explosives to ensure none of us walk away. A shame about the other charity guests inside, but...” he shrugs.

Landon shifts, positioning himself between me and Orlov.

“What do you want?” Landon’s voice is ice.

“Simple. You surrender yourself to me, Blackwood. You alone.” Orlov’s finger hovers over the button. “Or I send us all to meet our makers. You have ten seconds to decide.”

My heart drops into my stomach as I realize what I’ve done. The signal jammer—our only defense against Orlov’s detonator—is now crackling uselessly at the bottom of the fountain.

“Oh god,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “The jammer. I threw it in the water. We can’t?—”

Panic rises in my throat, threatening to choke me. That impulse decision might have just killed us all—Jolene, the Blackwoods, innocent people inside the charity event. My hands start trembling as I meet Landon’s eyes, expecting fury.

Instead, he smirks.

Not the cruel smile I’ve seen when he’s punishing me, but an almost playful one. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out another device, identical to the one that shorted out in the fountain.