Page 102 of Bratva Baby

Anton’s eyes find me first and that does something dangerous to my knees, so I lock them and glare at him because I have no interest in collapsing in front of anyone tonight. “You’re bleeding,” I call. “I told Yuri not to bring you here!”

His mouth curves even though his face has gone pale around the edges. “You’re holding a gun badly.”

I almost laugh, and it comes out shaky. “I’m under stress.”

“You’re always under stress.”

“You cause most of it.”

His eyes flick over me fast, checking my face, throat, coat, hands, stomach. When he sees I’m standing and not bleeding, his shoulders loosen by a fraction. Then his gaze moves to Maks, and whatever softness lived there for half a breath dies at once.

Yuri steps between two of Maks’s men and drives the butt of his shotgun into one man’s gut when he thinks about moving. “Nobody gets heroic,” he snaps. “I hate cleaning up heroes.”

Kolya looks at him, then at Anton. “I like him.”

Yuri doesn’t look back. “I don’t care.”

Good. Definitely Yuri.

Niko reaches me and steps close enough to cover my side without touching me. “You all right?”

“Ask me when nobody is pointing weapons near my baby.”

He nods once, which is the correct response.

Maks has not lowered his gun completely, but he’s no longer aiming cleanly at me. His eyes move across the yard, counting. Yuri’s men by the side entrance. Niko’s men at the gate. Anton’s people moving from the archive side with boxes and the coat man dragged between two guards. The key players were all here, too busy using me as bait to notice the bigger trap closing behind them.

That had been the part I didn’t know until Zhenya called. Lazlo hadn’t only reached her. He had reached Yuri first.

Yuri knew the yard.

Yuri knew the men Maks used on old freight roads.

And Yuri had told Zhenya something that made the whole night make sense.

If Maks pulls his key men to the archive building, he’s not guarding the outer road. He’s trusting fear to do the work. Tell Sofiya to make noise at the gate. I’ll bring men through the side.

So I made noise. I made so much noise that Maks stood here explaining his murder while Yuri took his yard apart.

Maks looks at me then, and whatever is left of him folds into hate. “You planned this.”

“Some of it,” I say. “I’m happy to take credit for the rest.”

Anton’s mouth twitches, but his eyes stay on Maks’s gun. “Put it down.”

Maks laughs, and it sounds broken now. “You’re giving me orders while bleeding because of her?”

“I’ve done better things because of her.”

That hits me in the middle of all the terror, and I want to yell at him for being romantic at a time like this. I also want to cross the yard and put my hands on him to make sure he’s real.

Maks steps back once, looking for a lane that no longer exists. “You think Grigor can touch me after tonight? You think he’ll survive what comes out when I start talking?”

Yuri snorts. “Men who say that usually talk too late.”

His phone is still on the ground, cracked but alive, and Grigor’s voice suddenly bursts through the damaged speaker. “Maksim.”

Everyone stills.