Page 21 of Captive Prize

Step by painful step, we reached the exit.

The second the cold night air hit my face, I finally took a full breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Damien said as Artem and Gregor took Pavel off my shoulder. “What took so long?”

“The tequila.”

“What?” Gregor asked.

“There were too many to fight. Pavel’s leg is busted. So I got them all drunk.”

“When you say drunk…”

“I mean fucking wasted. Skunk weed, tequila, maybe heroin. I’m not sure. Smelled like death and bad decisions.”

“You really aren’t getting that stink out of your clothes,” Mikhail muttered, holding his nose. “Just burn ‘em.”

“I’m not going with you.”

Gregor stepped forward. “Why not?”

“Because I lied when I said the girl’s motives didn’t matter. I’m not so sure now. I want to know why she took him. And whatLos Infidelesare really doing. They aren’t following her. Not really.”

“What are you saying?”

“How many of your men show up drunk and high on the job?”

“None. Ever,” Gregor said.

“Why?”

“Because they know better. Most respect me. The rest fear me.”

I pointed at him. “Exactly. Zoya doesn’t have either. They’re not here for her. They’re here for something else. And so is she. Two enemies teaming up? I want them both. I’m going to burn this whole fucking organization to the ground.”

“Wait—what is he saying?” Artem asked.

“I’m saying take Pavel home. Patch him up. I’m not finished here.”

I walked back toward the warehouse. My hand hovered over the brass handle.

Am I really doing this?

Walking straight into the fire, with no map and no way out.

If they figured out who I was before I finished…

They’d kill me.

Every step forward was a step deeper into enemy territory.

And for what?

For a girl who went after my family?

Did I feel bad for her?

Was there some part of me that wanted to protect her?

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