Page 132 of Shadow Waltz

“That’s for thinking loyalty made us weak,” I said to her dying form, feeling something cold and satisfied settle in my chest as her blood pooled across expensive carpeting.

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of coordinated violence as our people systematically eliminated everyone who'd participated in tonight's operation. Federal agents, criminal collaborators, support staff—all of them learning too late why crossing the Prince was a terminal mistake.

But it was when I heard Luka's voice through my earpiece that relief flooded through me like warm honey, confirmation that our trap had worked exactly as planned.

“Package secured,” he said, and I could hear satisfaction and something that might have been relief coloring his voice. “Extraction in progress.”

The sound of approaching helicopters should have been reassuring, the cavalry arriving to carry us away from the wreckage of our enemies' ambitions. Instead, it sent something cold and terrible unfurling in my chest, because the aircraft approaching weren't ours.

“Luka,” I said into the transmitter, voice tight with growing panic. “Those aren't our birds.”

The realization that our enemies had backup plans we hadn't anticipated hit like ice water in my veins. Through the window, I could see unmarked helicopters settling onto the safe house roof, tactical teams rappelling down with military coordination that spoke to resources far beyond what local federal agencies could deploy.

“International task force,” a voice announced through external speakers, words carrying authority that transcended national boundaries. “Building is surrounded. Surrender immediately or face elimination.”

I felt my pulse spike with understanding that our trap had been turned against us by people who'd been planning this confrontation longer than we'd realized. The explosion at the warehouse hadn't been the end of their operation—it had been the trigger for something much larger and infinitely more dangerous.

“Ash,” Luka's voice crackled through communications increasingly disrupted by military-grade jamming equipment. “Status report.”

“Compromised,” I replied, watching tactical teams breach the building's perimeter with coordinated movements that suggested extensive planning. “Unknown number of hostiles, international authority, extraction route blocked.”

“I'm coming for you.”

“Negative,” I said, hating the words even as I spoke them. “Too many variables, too much firepower. Abort and regroup.”

But even as I gave the order, I knew he wouldn't follow it. Luka had spent fifteen years building an empire on the principle that what belonged to him was worth any price to protect, and I'd become the most valuable thing he'd ever owned.

The tactical team that breached my door moved with professional competence that made local federal agents look like amateurs. European accents, equipment that cost more than luxury cars, the kind of systematic approach that came from hunting international criminals for a living.

“Ashford Carter,” the team leader said, consulting intelligence files that contained details about my life I'd forgotten myself. “You're coming with us.”

“Where?” I asked, though I suspected the answer wouldn't be reassuring.

“Somewhere your boyfriend can't reach you,” he replied with a smile that belonged in nightmares. “Somewhere we can haveproductive conversations about his organization and your role in its operations.”

The implications of what he was suggesting made my blood run cold, because it meant they weren't just planning to separate us—they were planning to use me as leverage in ways that would break whatever remained of Luka's resistance. Not just physical torture, but psychological warfare designed to destroy him through destroying me.

“He'll come for me,” I said, though the words felt like prayers offered to gods who'd stopped listening.

“We're counting on it,” the team leader replied. “Your boyfriend's protective instincts are exactly what we're hoping to exploit.”

The zip ties cut into my wrists as they secured my hands behind my back, plastic restraints designed to cause pain without leaving permanent damage. But it was the way they handled my collar that sent real terror through my system—not removing it, but examining it with the kind of professional interest that suggested they understood its significance.

“Beautiful work,” one of them observed, running fingers along the diamond setting that contained our emergency transmitter. “Custom design, military-grade electronics, probably worth more than most people's houses.”

“It's not coming off,” I said, voice carrying steel despite the circumstances.

As they carried me toward extraction vehicles that would take me somewhere beyond his reach, I caught one last glimpse of the city we'd fought to call home. Manhattan glittered in the distance like a circuit board made of broken dreams, beautiful and terrible and absolutely worth whatever price we'd paid to love each other within its shadows.

“Message for your boyfriend,” the team leader said as we lifted off into the night sky. “Tell him that some fairy tales endwith the princess locked in a tower, and some princes die trying to reach them.”

23

TRAITOR

LUKA

Ash disappeared into the darkness above Manhattan like a star being swallowed by an infinite void, and with it went everything that had made my existence worth the blood and shadow required to maintain it. I stood on the rooftop of our compromised safe house, watching the aircraft's lights fade until they became indistinguishable from the city's sprawling constellation, and felt something break inside my chest that I'd never known could fracture.