Page 76 of Assassin: Part 1

Mustering every ounce of strength I can, I force myself to roll, groaning at the pain in my ribs. Alonzo is doing the same, but my focus is on the chaos of the room and the woman getting to her feet across from me, gun drawn and gaze direct on Rori as her dog holds her father down, teeth snapping in his face.

The cold look on this woman’s face, the determination, and the words coming out of her mouth, enrage me. “He’s not yours to kill, Aurora,” my stalker tells Rori, before turning the gun toward Pasha and Hades. “Call him off. Now.”

“I’m not doing shit,” Rori spits, staggering to her feet.

A part of me wants to tell Rori to do the same, but I can’t look away from the woman in front of me. The woman who used me. Who infiltrated my life and fucked with it in every possible way she could.

I want to wring her neck. I roll to my knees, gasping, “You.” Damn these fucking vests. Later, I’ll be thankful for it and not ending up dead, but right now, it’s a pain in the ass.

Her gaze moves to me, and the cold, deadly expression fades, turning into happiness.

Happiness? This bitch is happy to see me? Knowing full well she’s fucked me over, working with the Bratva Butcher?

“Hello, pet,” she purrs. It throws me back to the sounds she makes when she comes. Sultry and tempting. “Miss me? I missed you, but don’t worry, we’ll have lots of time to catch up once I’ve got this all handled.”

She missed me? The audacity of this woman. I’m going to enjoy killing her. Slowly. Very slowly, after I deal with the Bratva Butcher.

A sharp cry from Hades distracts me, and the Butcher tries to drive his knife through the bulletproof vest the dog is wearing. Shit. I’m lifting my gun to kill the bastard, but Rori is faster. She kicks her father across the face, grabs his wrist, and twists hard until he drops the knife.

Alonzo and I move fast, pulling the dog down and away, trying to get the vest off. I’ll deal with my stalker in a moment. I’m not about to let the damn dog die. I don’t need his owner coming after me next.

A voice I haven’t heard in a long fucking time has me jerking my head up. I still, staring at the man behind Rori holding a gun against the back of her head.

You don’t come back from the dead and put a gun to the back of your ex-wife’s head and expect everything to go all right. Even I know that, and look at my taste in women.

My stalker is watching the entire display dispassionately, ignoring the Butcher’s screams at Mishka Belov to kill his daughter.

The blows just keep on coming when my stalker looks at Mishka and orders, “Gag him.” He hands her his gun, disarms Rori, who is staring at him like she’s seen a ghost—and honestly, I’m kind of right there with her—before going to the Butcher and slamming his fist into his face a couple times until he slumps to the ground unconscious.

“Romanov, I need more pressure,” Alonzo rasps, forcing my attention back to the whimpering dog. I comply, grateful for the small reprieve to try and wrap my head around what the hell is going on here.

My stalker is working with the Bratva Butcher.

She’s also working with Mishka Belov. Who should be buried in California in their family cemetery. A funeral I attended. Who is now helping her gag and tie up one of the world’s most dangerous assassins.

If my ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, I might think I was dead and watching this from my spot in hell.

Rori rushes over, shoving me out of the way, and I bite back a snarl. The only thing that stops me from barking at her is the agony on her face as she tries to see to her dog and man. Well, I guess that only leaves me with one option.

I look at the woman standing across from me doing some kind of silent exchange with Mishka, who is standing beside the Butcher’s unconscious form like a sentry. The familiarity in their body language and the way they communicate without speaking are all I need to know.

Was this all just a setup? Fuck me to get an in to life? Cheating on him with me? I don’t know, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Now.

“I want to know what the fuck is going on here. Now,” I bark as I get to my feet, my gaze never leaving my stalker. Not even when the door bursts open behind me, and Oleg and Zakhar rush in, guns drawn. Freya stalks inside after them, coming to stand between Oleg and me. “And this time, you’re not going anywhere,” I add, with a pointed stare at her.

Instead of arguing or shooting at me, she grins, eyes bright. I’m instantly on alert. Every damn time she looks like that is when shit starts hitting the fan.

“I was hoping you were going to say that, pet. It was the videos and letters. I knew you’d miss me. But we’ll have to hold off on our reunion just yet. We have something to sort out first.”

Oh, there’s going to be a reunion alright. One with my hand around her throat until she quits breathing. I open my mouth to order Oleg to grab her, but stop when she barks out a command in Czech, and Freya moves toward her eagerly.

What. The. Fuck.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?” she croons to the wolf, who is leaning into her and staring up at her like she’s her best friend. Oleg is equally as shocked and confused. How the hell has she already befriended Freya? Is that how she’s been able to get in and out without anyone suspecting? Using our own wolf against us?

But she’s not finished. The shocks just keep coming.

Still petting the wolf, she turns her head toward the window and calls out, “Come on in, Mila.”