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I stop running, knowing it’s useless if I’m the next target, but I suspect these guys aren’t here to kill me. They must be with Ivan, or somehow related to the Bratva. Who else would pull up to a gas station and empty a thousand rounds at a lone police officer?
My heart slams in my chest, and I clutch it with my left hand as men jump out of the SUVs. They’re dressed in the same camouflage tactical gear like the guards at Ivan’s estate. They look like soldiers, but they’re obviously not.
“Don’t be afraid, Lily. We’re here to help,” a man with a deep Russian accent says as he comes toward me.
Every fiber in my body screams at me to run from him, but I have no choice but to trust him. What else can I do when he’s holding a rifle in his hands while I stand defenseless?
I look over at the cop, ripped to pieces by more bullets than he’s probably ever fired in his lifetime, training included. What they did to him was beyond reasonable force, and nobody here seems the least bit bothered by it. In fact, the half dozen armed Bratva soldiers seem rather pleased with themselves.
“We will meet with Ivan at the rendezvous point,” the soldier in front of me says, resting his hand on my shoulder. “You are safe now.”
Relief floods my entire body, but it comes with the twisting motion of regret in my stomach. Ivan is going to be so pleased when I come running back to him. Maybe he does want to help me, but I hate that I came back to him so quickly. It makes me feel like a failure.
I drop my head, looking at my dirty shoes as we walk past the cop’s broken body on the way to one of the SUVs. A siren goes off in the distance, and I’m hurried into the vehicle, leaving my own car behind.
13
Ivan
“So, you came back,” I say, folding my hands together on my dining table and leaning forward. “Sounds like you finally realized how much trouble you’re in with the Red Hitters.”
“I had no choice,” Lily replies, a bitter tinge to her voice.
“You could’ve run,” I say, testing her a bit. I want to make sure she doesn’t try to get away again. She almost slipped away, and I can’t stand to lose her like that. It almost broke my heart to let her go the first time.
“I’ve realized running is going to get me killed. I’m stuck in this disaster, so thank you for that,” she says, folding her arms across her chest.
On the table between us, there’s a blue book and a silver ceremonial dagger. I take the book, flipping it open and reading the names written inside. So many have joined our ranks over the years, but there aren’t any women.
Lily will be the first.
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but you should actually be thanking me,” I say, laying the book down and looking into her stormy brown eyes. “Without me, you’d be dead.”
“Without you, I wouldn’t even be on the Red Hitters’ radar.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, grinning a bit at her annoyance.
As unfortunate as it is that she’s wrapped up in this grisly business with me, I can’t help but enjoy her company. It’s been ages since I’ve had this much fun with another person. It can be draining working with wrinkly old grumps day in and day out.
Lily provides a little sprinkle of youth and energy to my life that I didn’t realize I needed until now.
“What’s this book all about, anyway?” she asks, leaning over the table to break the silence. “Some kind of initiation? I hope you’re not planning on using that dagger.”
“Relax, it’s not going to hurt that much,” I say, flipping open the book so she can see the names and streaks of blood inside. “You see these?”
Her eyes widen, and she nods.
“They’re from every person who has joined our ranks. It’s mandatory that you also give your blood, but it won’t be much. It’s just a little smear on the paper,” I explain.
She pulls her head back, shaking it so hard that strands of auburn hair fall loose from her bun. “No way I’m doing that. Has the knife even been disinfected? How many diseases do you think are already on that thing?”
I sigh. “Darling, this is a fresh dagger. Everyone gets a unique one for their initiation, and you get to keep yours once we’re done.”
She narrows her eyes, shifting in her seat as she tries to find another reason to resist the initiation ritual. “Okay, but you should still disinfect it.”
“Vodka will do,” I say, standing up and turning to the cabinet behind me. Inside, there’s a bottle with a piece of bison grass floating in the vodka, giving it a slight greenish-yellow tint. It’s as though someone poured the tiniest amount of olive juice in it.
I take the bottle, turning back to Lily and setting it down on the table. “This is from Poland. I’ve already had a bit, but I didn’t find it all that special. More of a gimmick, really, but it’ll do the trick for what we’re about to partake in.”
