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I’m about to react, but Konstantin’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Wait!” he warns me.
I nod, swallowing my frustration as we watch Roman’s driver and bodyguard being knocked out.
“What is going on here?” Roman demands, pulling my mother behind him.
The PMCs don’t respond as they grab Roman and my mother, dragging them into the farmhouse and slamming the front door behind them with a thud.
My grip tightens on my weapon, every instinct screaming at me to move, to do something. But Konstantin shakes his head at me.
“I feel the same as you do,” Konstantin assures me. “But we need to be smart about this, or we’ll lose our advantage.”
“This is a giant trap!” Sasha makes me jump as his voice comes from behind me. I never heard the bastard sneak up.
“No shit!” Konstantin says. “We already knew that.”
“Yes, we knew that Lev and possibly Lucien had set this up,” Sasha points out. “So I went looking for signs that Dmitry’s men had been overthrown.”
“And?” I ask.
“They are nowhere to be seen anywhere around the house or within the farmhouse perimeter,” Sasha informs us. He glances at the limo. “I heard Grace telling the one guard that pulled them into the house that Lucien invited them here.”
“What the fuck is my cousin playing at?” Konstantin spits.
“Who all is in the house?” I ask Sasha.
“Lucien, Harry, Roman, Grace, Lev, and Stacy are in the front living room,” Sasha informs us. “There are two guards at both entrances to the room. A few patrolling the passage and grounds.”
“Where’s Isabella?” I ask before Konstantin can.
“According to the housekeeper, Isabella and Temur are in the panic room,” Sasha’s words have me breathing a sigh of relief.
“Thank Christ!” I say, and my eyes narrow as I go back to Sasha’s words and glance at Konstantin. “Didn’t you tell me that Dmitry Popov Junior still owned and used this farm?”
“He does.” Konstantin nods. “Or as far as my uncle knows.”
“He does,” Sasha answers with a nod. “According to my sources, they farm weapons.”
“Oh!” My eyes widen. “I thought the Popovs retired?”
“This is retirement for them,” Konstantin tells me. “The Butcher of the North once controlled most operations in Canada, Alaska, and parts of South and Central America.”
“He gave it all up when his daughter was killed,” Sasha informs me, his head cocking to the side as he listens. “We’re being watched.” He looks at us, but I know he’s silently assessing where we’re being watched.
“PMCs?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Remember I said this is a giant trap?” Sasha tells me. Konstantin and I nod. “We’re surrounded.”
Mine and Konstantin’s eyes widen. “Lev or Lucien’s men?”
“Nope.” Shasha shakes his head. “Dmitry’s men.”
“I thought you said they were nowhere to be found?” My eyes narrow in on Sasha.
“I said they were nowhere to be found around the farmhouse or in the grounds,” Sasha points out. “They are, however, stationed outside the perimeter.”
“So, we’ve just wandered into a lion’s den!” I shake my head. “Well, this is fucking great.” I look at Sasha. “Give us the lay of the house.”
Sasha points out where the guards are, the front living room entrances, and where the panic room is. My heart lurches when he tells us that Lev knows Isabella is in there and is trying to get in. But Sasha managed to get all Dmitry’s staff out, so no one knows how to, and the housekeeper told him that only Dmirty knows how to override it.
