Page 114 of Savage Saint
Something in her voice makes my grip tighten on the wheel. Not fear exactly, but a hollow acceptance that's worse. She remembers every kill, every mission, every order Jerzy gave her in this city. The weight of those memories sits between us like a third passenger.
She turns to study my face, and I wonder what she sees there. Fear? Determination? The desperate need to keep her safe?
I probably look like a man preparing to wage war against impossible odds. Because that's exactly what I am. Jerzy has an army. We have each other and the element of surprise. I should have at least brought my brothers with me. But no. This is not their war.
Jerzy will die tonight, or I will. There's no middle ground when it comes to protecting what's mine.
Jerzy's estate rises from the darkness like a monument to paranoia. High walls topped with razor wire, security cameras sweeping in predictable arcs, guards positioned at intervals that speak of military precision. The old bastard built himself a fortress.
Kasia's fingers tighten around mine as we study it from the shadows. Her breathing is controlled, measured. The Red Widow preparing for the hunt.
I ease the SUV into position beneath a cluster of oak trees, their branches creating deeper shadows that swallow us whole. The engine dies with a soft tick of cooling metal. In the sudden quiet, I can hear her heartbeat—or maybe it's mine.
She checks her watch, the luminous hands glowing faintly in the darkness. "Fifteen minutes," she says, her voice steady. Professional. Then she turns to me, and for a heartbeat, the mask slips.
Her lips find mine in a kiss that tastes of desperation and promises. Salt and gunpowder. Life and death. When she pulls back, her eyes hold mine for a moment that stretches into infinity.
"Fifteen minutes," she whispers against my mouth, and then she's gone.
I watch her melt into the darkness, moving along paths invisible to anyone who hadn't grown up here. She becomes onewith the shadows, a wraith slipping between pools of blackness. Within seconds, I can't track her movement anymore, and the loss of visual contact makes my chest tight.
My hand finds my Beretta, fingers wrapping around the familiar grip. The metal is cold against my palm, a sharp contrast to the heat still lingering from her kiss.
One minute.
She'll be at the outer wall now, using the blind spot she identified between cameras three and four. There's a drainage grate there, old and forgotten, just wide enough for someone her size to slip through.
Two minutes.
My jaw clenches as I imagine her crawling through that narrow space, vulnerable and alone. What if they've welded it shut? What if there's a sensor we missed?
Three minutes.
I force myself to breathe slowly, evenly. She knows what she's doing. She's done this before, countless times. The Red Widow doesn't make mistakes.
Four minutes.
But she's not just the Red Widow anymore. She's my Butterfly, and that terrifies me more than any assassin's reputation. Love makes you vulnerable. Makes you hesitate. Makes you human when you need to be a weapon.
Five minutes.
The guard at the east gate shifts his weight, bored and complacent. He has no idea death is stalking through his employer's halls. No idea that in ten minutes, his shift will end permanently.
Six minutes.
She should be inside the main building now, navigating corridors she knows by heart. How many times did she walkthose halls as a child? How many times did Jerzy drag her through them, bloodied from training?
Seven minutes.
My teeth grind together. This waiting is torture. Every instinct screams at me to move, to follow, to protect. But I hold position, trusting her skill even as my imagination conjures a thousand ways this could go wrong.
Eight minutes.
A light flickers in an upper window. My breath catches, but then it steadies again. Could be anything. A guard making rounds. A staff member working late. Or Kasia, already hunting.
Nine minutes.
I check my weapons one final time. Both Berettas loaded, chambered, safeties off. Knife sharp enough to shave with. The small explosive charges Arrow provided tucked safely in my jacket. Everything I need to wage war.
