Page 42 of Pretty Little Assassin

Atom bombs are small compared to their explosive destructive power.

“He used that time to follow the partial omega intel.” She runs her fingers through her copper hair. “Donnie’s been building a fake route, but that monster already grabbed some of the omegas. Unless he’s lying.” Her eyes are wild and furious. “Maybe he’s still baiting me.” She throws her phone against the wall. It leaves a clear mark. “We spent six hours in that damn car.”

“And we got a lot of good intel during that stakeout. Let’s use it to figure out our approach. All he saw was us sitting in a car for six hours. But we saw everyone going in and out.” I let that sit. “He is trying to turn VEIL and the Primacy against each other with the two of us in the middle.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest we make a plan.”

Valentina sits down at the table and stops being violent against her phone long enough to hear me out.

“You cannot save the omegas if you walk in alone.”

“We don’t even know if he has the omegas or not!”

I want to put a calming hand on her back. That will get me kneed in the balls or a blade if I’m lucky. I make no move to touch her. “Let’s hope he does not, but plan as if he does.”

She rolls her eyes. “The Wraith is a fucking optimist.”

“And a realist.”

“Well, I can’t exactly have you walking in as my plus-one, or that will instantly set off the alarm bells. Knowing my stepdad as unfortunately as I do, he’ll be watching for me to show up with backup.”

“Then no backup is seen. I do not come with you.” I think it through. “Everyone at the Primacy knows my face, and half of them will be in that room.”

“Agreed.” She nods. “There needs to be stealth built into this plan. Stealth and support.”

She reaches for her phone and brushes off a small dusting of glass from the chipped screen. My pretty little assassin is back. Хорошенькая убийца.

“Madam will send in tactical support. Donnie, Zero, and Alley Cat can help us come up with a new plan. I’m still going to the Valentine’s Day gala, Viktor. I will not let those omegas die at the hands of my twisted stepdad.”

She pauses, then stands and goes to pet Mr. Pickles, who is napping in front of the window.

“And I do not take orders from anyone, especially you.”

“I do not expect you to. I expect you to be smart and strategic and not fall into that brainless asshole’s traps.” I check the clock. “Forty-eight hours. We start now.”

“I’ll tell Donnie to kill the fake extraction.” She huffs. “Stephole isn’t following breadcrumbs anymore. He just sent me an invitation.”

Valentina lets out another breath, scoops up her cat despite its objection to being picked up and carried, and sinks down against the sofa. “We need another idea to protect the omegas.”

“You readjust quickly, don’t you, little assassin?” I ask as I go to sit beside her.

“I have to, if I want to stay alive,” she says, one brow raised. “This couch is too small for all three of us.”

I sink deeper into the corner cushion. I manspread, just to watch her twitch.

“It’s my couch.”

Her face almost hints at amusement, even though I can still scent her adrenaline-infused agitation. Still, it is remarkable. This moment in the middle of utter chaos. Just two killers sitting on a couch with a cat named after a pickled vegetable between them.

It could almost be a moment.

“Forty-eight hours to make a plan, Viktor,” Valentina says. “At the Valentine’s Day gala. If I get the chance to, I’m taking him out.”

“Your stepfather?”

“Yeah.”