Page 156 of Nemesis

“Only a fool wouldn’t be prepared for an early strike,” Ivan says, picking his nails.

“Unless you have a better plan, you can shut the fuck up,” Nik snaps. Destabilizing, indeed.

“Careful. It’s my soldiers you’re playing with.” Ivan levels him a dangerous look I’ve only seen him bring out a handful of times. It’s enough to make Nik’s face blanch. “Besides, I believe we’re still waiting for your Pakhan’s final word, no?”

“There’s only so long we can hold off on making the tough decisions,” Ben says, stepping away from the map. “Besides, she doesn’t have the best track record with handling stress. The last time she disappeared upstairs, it was weeks before Vasiliy managed to drag her out of bed…”

I rise from my seat so fast that the chair flips backwards behind me. I’m already across the room when he realizes his mistake. He shuffles away, backtracking.

“Hey, I’m just sa⁠—”

My hand wraps around his throat before slamming his skull into the table. Rage flickers so bright in my sight that I nearly black out. Everyone shouts, lurching forward to intercede. Ben squirms in my hold.

He’s her family. You can’t kill him.

But I want to.

Badly.

“You are so unbelievably lucky that she didn’t hear you say those words,” I growl, slamming his cheek back down to the wood and leaning in. “If you ever spew that venom again, I’ll spend hours making you wish you were dead.”

His hateful eyes glare up at me, but not a single sound leaves his lips. The fact that he could stomach saying something like that about his cousin, after all of the resources she brought them and the grief she’s shoved down to function, makes me physically sick. He doesn’t deserve her. None of these fuckers deserves her.

“You going to let go of me?” he bites out, nails digging into my wrist as if it will loosen my hold on his throat.

The sound of approaching footsteps is what has me releasing the little shit. He stumbles away, rubbing at the mark left behind on his skin.

Octavia storms into the room before any of us says another word. The tension in here is so thick it’s a wonder we’re not choking, but she walks directly to the blueprints on the table, oblivious to the lingering violence. There’s a leather book clutched in her hand, and a peculiar look in her eyes.

I walk over, desperate to be near her. My racing heart slows the moment my palm slides around her waist.

“Where did you find that?”

Shockingly, the question comes from Alex, who’s been frozen even throughout my assault on his son a minute earlier. He’s staring at the little book in her hand.

“Dad’s office.” She folds the cover open, revealing a page filled with inky scrawls and confusing little pictures.

“What is it?” Nik asks, stepping over. Even Ivan climbs out of his chair.

“He’d been planning on gifting those to you,” Alex says so quietly, the words are nearly inaudible.

“What is it?” Nik repeats.

Octavia pays him no heed, sliding the book over our blueprint plans until it’s in the spot she wants. Then she traces a finger across the drawing in the book until she reaches a line on the blueprint below.

“Pen,” she murmurs, eyes glued to the page.

“Someone get me a fucking pen,” I call out, extending my open hand. “Now!”

A body scrambles forward, dropping the writing utensil into my grip, but I don’t look away from her. She takes the pen from me and presses the tip to the paper below her book, then draws a short, curved line along the first floor’s layout. When she’s done, her pen falls to the table, and she glances up at me with a new fire in her eyes.

“Mom left a way out.”

My lips part. I look between her and that curved line. She hands me the journal, pointing to the neat diagram. Is that…? It’s a miniature version of our blueprints. There’s an identical line to the one she drew on our version, with a small note written beside it.

Twenty minutes when the ovens are loud.

I look back up, finding her attention already locked on me.