Page 18 of Emerald

As I raise my right hand in the air, above his neck, I can’t help glancing one more time at Ivan’s face.

His dark brown eyes are open, staring up at me.

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6

Ivan Petrov

Iwake as soon as my door opens.

I’ve always been a light sleeper.

The slightest change in light in the room, the smallest sound will wake me.

I know it isn’t one of my men. They never come in my rooms, not ever. If something happens, they just call my phone, which is charging on the nightstand right next to me.

I don’t know how many intruders there might be, or if they’re armed. If they’re wearing night-vision goggles, they’ll be able to riddle me with bullets before I can even roll off the bed.

So I force myself to stay perfectly still. I keep my breathing calm and steady, though my heart is racing.

I wait, listening to the near-imperceptible sounds of someone approaching the bed.

Just one person. Incredibly quiet and light on their feet.

How did they get into the compound?

The alarm never went off. There were no sounds of a struggle—that would have woken me up way before the door opening.

I feel a flush of fury, the closer they get.

How dare this intruder come in my house? Into my bedroom?

It’s outrageous.

But I’m also the smallest bit impressed. Nobody’s gotten this close to me before.

I can feel the figure approaching, more than I actually hear them. I feel the movement of air across my bare skin as they near the edge of my bed. I hear the rustle of their clothes as they take something out of a pocket.

I try to look at this person through a slit in my closed eyelids.

It’s dark in the room, and the figure is dressed all in black, like a shadow come to life. I can see that they’re only average height, and slim.

Now I’m just waiting to see if they’ve got a knife or a gun.

I have a Glock under my pillow, and another in my nightstand. An AR under the bed and more weapons in my closet. But as the figure raises its hand, I can see I won’t need any of that.

They’re only armed with a syringe.

The needle tip glistens in the starlight coming through the blinds.

It looks wickedly sharp.

It sends a flush of pure rage through my veins.

This fucking coward planned to sneak in my room in the middle of the night and jam that needle in my neck while I was sleeping.

The assassin raises the syringe over my throat.

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