Page 77 of Blood Code

Men and their fragile egos.

My phone vibrated in my purse. Two buzzes. A text. I ignored it, turning my attention to the problem at hand.

I cleared my throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room: Severin, my family, Maks, and Mikhail.

“Well, you certainly left out some pieces of that rescue,” I joked, nudging Neeve with my elbow, hoping to break the tension suffocating the room.

The joke was also a reminder. We were surrounded by Russian mafia bosses, and however much I wanted to comfort her, we needed to get through this first.

“Like the part where you were saved by some paranormal spirit who apparently can get nosebleeds and pass out.”

That information was never supposed to get out. I’d cut the livestream with my knife, but apparently Damon had access to other cameras that kept recording.

What the fuck do you want, Damon? Truly want?

Obviously, he was sending Severin after me, but he could’ve easily told him my name. He knew it, after all. He was the assassin sent to kill me. So why the games? Why give Severin everything he needed to hunt me except the one piece of information that would expose me completely?

I swallowed hard and refocused on the present problem.

The Russians stared at us like we were intruders—which, technically, we were—so I slipped back into my nonchalant Keira persona.

“I did like the part where she told you to try to be useful, though.” I squeezed Neeve’s hand.

Our presence had clearly shocked them, and no one spoke. Their jaws might as well have been sewn shut.

“You would like that part,” Neeve grumbled.

“Ah, yes, I would.” I kept my voice bright and lifted my chin to face the firing squad. “So, uh, who were those women who rescued you?” I asked, silently begging Neeve to get herself together.

She needed to invent a convincing story fast—or at least keep my secrets to herself.

Because this was an attack.

I wanted to comfort her, but shots had been fired on both sides, and now Damon was sending Severin after me—to hunt me for him.

“I have no idea,” Neeve said slowly, squeezing my hand back. “You saw about as much as I did. The creepy one⁠—”

“Just for clarity’s sake, which one is the creepy one?” I cut in.

Neeve shot me a glare that said, Obviously, not you. But what came out of her mouth was, “The one who wasn’t passed out at my feet.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

“Anyway”—Neeve rolled her eyes—“the creepy one woke up the other. She was so weak she could barely walk, so we carried her out of the complex to a blacked-out SUV. Then they drove me to a private plane and flew me back to New York.”

Severin narrowed his eyes. “And you didn’t learn anything from them at all?” His hands slid into his pockets. “It couldn’t have been a short journey.”

“Well, the one who saved me was passed out the whole time, and the creepy one was, well…” Neeve hesitated. Sabine was extremely hard to explain. “…was creepy.”

Another squeeze of her hand: You’re doing great, my love.

None of that was true. At least I didn’t think so. Sabine might have said absolutely nothing to Neeve on the plane, but I’d woken halfway through the flight, introduced myself, and explained everything.

At that point, Neeve demanded I help her hunt down every Order member.

At first, I was wary of her, but everything changed after we reached New York and I brought her home to her family.

They asked me to stay for a while, to help Neeve adjust to life outside captivity.