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“Sir!” The door beside us swung open.
And time fucking stopped.
The arsehole who’d roughed up the girl from before—Sergeant Ivanov—stepped out onto the roof, and this time, the redhead in his grasp was no fucking decoy.
She was mine.
Clover’s big green eyes softened in remorse as she held my stunned stare.
She was wearing Kellen’s jacket, and her leggings were wet from the knees down.
She’d followed us.
Fuck.
“Look who we found lurking outside.” The fucker grinned.
“Ha! Perfect!” Alexi clapped his hands together before pulling a cigar out of his breast pocket.
“I’ll do it,” I said, turning to my father. “Whatever you want. Let her go, and I’ll do it.”
“I know you will.” Alexi beamed, a thick Cuban clamped between his tobacco-stained teeth. “I was going to motivate you with the threat of torture, but … you’re an Abramov. Tough.” He made a fist. “Strong. Torturing your little Irish whore instead will be so much more … effective.”
He laughed as he rolled the end of his cigar over the flame of a solid gold Zippo. Then, he puffed on the end until it was lit and exhaled the smoke in my face.
“Ah! This is a good day.” Alexi wrapped an arm around my shoulders, but I barely felt it.
My entire awareness was fixated on the tearstained face of the woman I loved. The humanity I’d buried in order to do my job came rushing back all at once, stealing the air from my lungs and nearly bringing me to my knees.
My greatest fear had been leading my father to Clover and having to watch her die all over again.
But this was so much fucking worse.
He would never let her go. He would torture and rape her whether I behaved or not, simply because he could. Simply because he hated me.
Well, that made fucking two of us.
“In three … two …” The cameraman pointed at us as a tiny red light began blinking on the front of his gear.
“Good evening,” Alexi said in his heavily accented English. “It is vith great pride and triumph zhat I stand before you today, vith my beloved son, to announce historic victory for Russian Federation.” He took a deep breath and extended his arms like the dictator he fucking was. “Ireland … is … ”
A scream so loud and so primal that I thought it must have clawed its way through the cracks of my own broken heart suddenly shattered the air, giving voice to my grief, my rage, my hopeless fucking agony.
Glancing back at the camera, Alexi laughed awkwardly as the sergeant holding my girl off camera slapped a hand over her mouth and clamped his elbow around her neck.
Clover kept screaming into his palm until her eyelids fluttered closed and her body went limp.
And a red mist of fury clouded my vision.
I lunged to catch her, to pound his fucking face into his skull, but Alexi held me back with a single hand around my bicep. It would be his only warning. If I fucked this up for him, she would suffer.
Greatly.
“We’re all very excited.” He grinned at the camera, tightening his fist around my arm. “And to celebrate Russian Federation victory over United Irish Brotherhood and … ah … acquisition of island, vice president and I are pleased to announce …”
Alexi kept talking, but I was no longer listening. At least not to him. I was listening to what sounded like a swarm of killer bees descending upon us from every fucking direction. The skies were clear, but the sound was unmistakable.
Drones. At least two dozen of them, began spilling over the railings of the building as if it were a hornets nest that had just been kicked.
