Thewarehouse looked abandoned.
Sara sat in the back of a black car, staring at the crumbling building through the window. The sun had set an hour ago. Shadows stretched long and dark across the broken pavement. Somewhere inside, her father waited.
And Dimitri.
Always Dimitri.
Adrian sat beside her, his face carved from stone. He had changed clothes—black from head to toe, no suit, no pretense. A gun rested in a holster beneath his jacket. Another was strapped to his ankle.
He caught her looking.
"Last chance to change your mind," he said quietly.
"You know I won't."
"I know." He reached over and took her hand. "Listen to me. We go in together. We stay together. If anything goes wrong, you run. You don't look back. You don't try to save anyone. You run."
"And you?"
"I'll be right behind you."
Sara wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him.
"Mr. Volkov." The driver's voice came from the front. "We're in position. Six men posted around the perimeter, just as you ordered."
Adrian nodded. "Wait for my signal. If you don't hear from us in thirty minutes, you go in hot."
"Yes, sir."
Adrian turned to Sara. "Ready?"
Sara took a deep breath.
"No. But let's go anyway."
The warehouse was even worse inside.
Broken machinery littered the floor. The smell of rust and rot filled the air. Somewhere above, water dripped steadily, a constant reminder of decay.
Sara walked close behind Adrian, her eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The gun Viktor had given her was cold in her hand. Her finger rested near the trigger, just as he'd taught her.
Don't think. React.
A sound echoed from somewhere ahead.
Adrian stopped. Held up his hand.
They waited.
The sound came again—a muffled cry. A man's voice.
Sara's heart lurched. Dad.
Adrian moved forward, silent as a ghost. Sara followed, her breath caught in her throat.
They reached a doorway. Beyond it, a large open space. A single light hung from the ceiling, illuminating a chair in the center.
In that chair, bound and gagged, sat Sara's father.
He looked terrible—bruised, bloody, terrified. But alive. Definitely alive.
Sara took a step forward.
Adrian's hand caught her arm.
"Wait," he breathed. "It's too easy."
Sara froze. He was right. Where were the guards? Where was Dimitri?
A voice echoed from the darkness above.
"Bravo, brother. I knew you'd come."
Dimitri stepped out of the shadows on a metal catwalk high above. He looked different—harder, angrier. One arm was bandaged, the same arm Adrian had wounded. But his smile was the same. Cold. Cruel. Empty.
"And you brought the little wife." He clapped slowly, the sound echoing off the walls. "I'm touched. Really."
Adrian's voice was ice. "Let him go, Dimitri. This is between us."
"Oh, I know." Dimitri leaned against the railing. "But where's the fun in that? I want Sara to watch. I want her to see what happens to people who love you."
He snapped his fingers.
Lights blazed on.
Suddenly the warehouse was alive with men—at least a dozen, emerging from behind crates and machinery. All armed. All aiming at Adrian and Sara.
Sara's blood ran cold.
Dimitri smiled down at them.
"Welcome to your funeral, brother. I hope you enjoyed the wedding."
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