If I’m alive and Max is alive, they will never stop coming for me, for her, for us.
Especially if they know I got out and their men perished.
I will spend the rest of my life watching every door she walks through, every room she enters and every person who stands too close.
No. I won’t put her through that. If I’m dead, they’ll stop going after her. And Nico can keep her safe while we take them down.
And then they won’t be a problem for anyone.
Not for me.
And not for Max.
I know which one of those worlds she can live in.
I don’t know if she will forgive me.
But I can live without her if I have to—if it means she is safe; if it means the Volkovs can’t touch her again.
I see the woman with the grocery bags circling her car to find me and I slink up the block, sticking to the shadows, forcing myself to walk without a limp. I keep to the side streets as I continue into the depths of the city, and I don’t look at my reflection in any of the dark windows I pass.
After six blocks, I find a bar that’s open and dimly lit, mostly empty this late at night.
No one looks at me when I walk in.
I sit at the far end of the bar, and I force my hand to stop shaking as I pull my wallet out of my pocket, throwing two twenty-dollar bills on the bar top.
“Whiskey, neat,” I say it low, my voice even though my body wants to shake in pain.
The bartender nods and I tap the counter.
He raises his eyebrows at me.
I pull out a hundred-dollar bill and toss it down with the twenties.
“And a phone, if you have one.”
He chuckles, sets a glass next to the cash. As he fills it with dark liquid, he drops a cell phone next to it.
“Would’ve let you borrow the phone for free but appreciate the tip.”
He grabs the cash, but I don’t move for the phone.
I let it sit there and I sip the whiskey for a bit.
Some time goes by. I let the burn tell me I’m still alive. I watch the door.
I think about Max and what they all must be going through at this moment, and that burns more, deep inside me.
I think about Nico and I think about the Volkovs and I let it all move through me.
It settles into something cold and certain and decided.
So, I pick up the phone.
It rings twice.
“Yeah?” Nico’s voice is clipped on the other end of the line, as it always is when he answers an unknown number.