Page 16 of Filthy Lies

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Working with Grigor Petrov’s son burns like venom in my veins, but he’s proven useful. Too useful.

If he’s lying, I’ll peel the skin from his body inch by agonizing inch.

But I don’t think he is.

Arkady materializes beside me, a shadow among shadows. “Men are in position. Say the word.”

“Where are we on the security feed?”

“Hacked. We can see the interior layout.”

“And Rowan?” My voice catches on her name like a rusty hook.

“Third floor, northwest corner. Only one heat signature showing with her, but the walls are thick, so nothing is guaranteed.”

I grip my gun tighter, knuckles white beneath my leather gloves. “Move in. Secure all exits. No one escapes.”

There’s no grand speech. No dramatic rallying of troops. These men know what’s at stake. They know what happens to anyone between me and my wife tonight.

I turn to Daniel. “Stay with Dimitri. If you try to warn your friends?—”

“They’re not my friends,” he interrupts. “And I’m coming with you.”

“The fuck you are.”

“I know the building layout. Which stairs won’t creak, which doors are reinforced.” His eyes lock with mine. “You need me.”

I hate that he’s right.

“Fine.” I check my weapon one last time. “But if you so much as breathe wrong?—”

“You’ll kill me. Yeah, I know. I got it the first ten times.”

Our teams move in like a single organism. Black-clad figures melt into the darkness, positioning themselves around thecompound. One of my men approaches the junction box Daniel identified and kills power to the security systems with three precise snips of his wire cutters.

“Arkady, we need a distraction,” I say into my comm. “West side.”

Seconds later, an explosion rocks the far end of the compound. Solovyov men scramble toward it like ants from a disturbed hill.

And we descend.

The first guard never sees me coming. I put him down with a silenced shot to the back of the skull. The second tries to reach for his radio before my knife finds his throat. The third, to his credit, manages to get fingers to his gun. But that’s as far as he gets.

Once, these kills would have been executed emotionlessly. But not tonight.

Tonight, each body that drops is just an obstacle between me and Rowan. Between me and my child. And I tear through them with a rage that burns white-hot in my chest.

Daniel keeps pace at my side, moving with unexpected competence. He disables an alarm system I would have missed, guides us through a maze of corridors I would have gotten lost in.

Gunfire erupts behind us. Arkady’s voice crackles over the comm. “Main entrance secured. Ten hostiles down. East wing clear.”

We reach a stairwell. Daniel holds up a hand, stopping me from charging ahead. “Pressure plate,” he whispers, pointingto a nearly invisible sensor. “Step there, and you trigger silent alarms.”

We navigate around it and continue our ascent. Second floor. More guards. More bodies hitting the floor, the wet thud of death following us like a faithful dog.

The third floor, however, is quiet. Eerily quiet. Too quiet.

“Something’s wrong,” Daniel mutters.

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