Page 54 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

The revelation dawns on me like the sun over the ocean, growing brighter by the second. Sergei is definitely one of them… whether from the beginning or brought in recently. He is one of the traitors Demin is trying to root out.

"Why?" I breathe, incredulous. "He trusted you with his life." I shudder as I think about what this means. Whoever has turned against Demin has recruited this sick bastard to help him. He knew that bomb was there and he let Demin get in that car. The realization has me trying to launch myself out of this chair again, only to find myself stuck fast. "You sick fucker!"

Sergei laughs darkly again and says, "You know, if you weren't so fucking mouthy I'd keep you around for when this faction owns the Bratva territory. You'd make a good whore to pass around to my men."

"Fuck you!" I hiss, spitting at him. The spit lands short of where he is, but he gets my point. "You're a lying bastard. I'd never trust you."

"Well, I'm prepared to set you free when we have what we want… But your father will stay with us. Oh, and good luck getting anyone of significance to believe your story. We'll be surrounded by layers of protection by then." When he sits back, picking the dirt from his fingernail, I grit my teeth and pull at the restraints harder. No matter what I do, nothing comes loose.

"You tried to kill him…" I'm still trying to wriggle free, but I know it's pointless.

"The bomb was meant to be the end of it—I'll admit I was disappointed." He turns one hand over, like he's weighing a deal that fell through. "But I'll get another chance… This way is cleaner."

"Then what is this? What does dragging me out here get you?"

"You're bait, Isabela." He leans forward over his knees. A disgusting flicker of evil lights up his eyes for a second and then snuffs itself out as he says, "Come morning, he knows you're gone, and he knows it was me who took you, and then your Demin has a choice to make. He comes after you because he can't trust a single fucking person on this planet right now. Or…"

"Or what?" I say, though I'd give anything not to hear it. I clamp my eyes shut tight and try to squeeze him out, will myself to be back in that bedroom tucked warmly into Demin's bed waiting for him.

"Or he does the clever thing. He puts the Bratva ahead of the woman, the way his kind always do when it comes down to it, and he writes you off and closes his ranks and saves his own skin." Sergei opens his hands in a gesture of indecision. "I win on either road, you see. I get him, or I get to watch him devolve into a maniac and lose his mind because I've touched you. There's no version of tonight where I walk out without something I came for."

I pull against the cords again, whimpering as I realize this asshole is going to kill the man I love.

"He'll come," I say. "And he's going to bring help. You won’t get your chance to hurt him again."

"I know him better than you, woman." Sergei licks his canine tooth and sits back again. "I've spent my whole life around men like Demin Roshin. I know precisely how this runs. The only thing I don't know yet is which way he'll break. But I've made peace with whatever the outcome is."

He stands, brushes the dust from his trousers. "Get comfortable," he says. "We've a few hours yet before any of it begins."

He walks to the door and lets it shut behind him as my head hangs and tears flow freely.

"Oh, my God…" I'm sobbing, praying to the saints to protect him. Because God help me, I know Demin Roshin is coming to claim what's his, and I’m not sure if he understands the evil waiting for him.

28

DEMIN

Mishka and I are halfway up the armory stairs, the kill bag over my shoulder when the first explosion goes off somewhere on the east side of the compound. The whole stairwell shudders and rumbles, and Mishka looks at me with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?" he mumbles, leaning against the wall.

We both freeze for a second before another blast rattles the walls and then we rush up the steps. My heart surges into my throat, racing wildly as we enter the main floor, bursting out the door.

The flat, hard crack of rifle fire is rolling in from the east wing, and I can hear my own men shouting positions to each other over the top of voices screaming at them in Spanish. The war I've been fighting at a distance for a month has finally come through my front door.

"They're inside," Mishka says, swinging his rifle up.

"My God, Isabela," I mutter, whipping around as two of Solano's men come around the corner from the east doorway at a run. Both of us lift our weapons, firing down the narrow hall, and two men drop like flies, smearing blood along my wall as they go. "Listen to where they're pushing. They're not spreading out to take the house. They're driving in one direction." These fuckers didn't come for me this time. They came for Octavio, which means they're with Solano.

Mishka starts that way, hearing what I hear too. "The chemist," he says.

"Fuck." It makes sense in an ugly, clean way, because Solano has wanted his chemist back since the night I took him. A loud frontal push on my compound is exactly the move to make. It's what I did, and it's effective. But someone told them tonight was the night and they told them exactly where to go.

We move toward the east wing together, hugging the wall as the gunfire swells, and I'm already thinking of how many men I have standing between the basement and a hallway full of Cartel rifles. Bart comes barreling around the far corner, sliding behind a column for cover while two of my soldiers lay down fire to keep the Spaniards pinned in the stairwell, and he catches my eye across the smoke-thick hall.

"Boss," he shouts, ducking lower as a round chews a chunk out of the plaster near his head. "They breached the kitchen door and the south service entrance at the same time. It's like they fucking knew right when and where to hit."

"How many?" I snarl, pointing the barrel of my weapon up the hallway to unleash a few suppressing rounds.