Page 92 of Fury
A heavy sigh filters through the phone. "Give me twenty-four hours. I'll get you what I can. But, Reed?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. Men like Volkov don't go down easy. And they have long memories for those who cross them."
"I'm counting on it," I say, ending the call before he can respond.
When I return to the bedroom, Livie is still sleeping peacefully. I slide back into the bed beside her, gathering her close, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"Soon," I promise her silently. "Soon this will all be over, and we can start living again."
As the sun continues its ascent outside, casting golden light across her sleeping form, I allow myself to imagine that future, of Livie smiling without shadows in her eyes, both of us free from the fear.
Chapter
Sixteen
Greyson
The phone vibrates against my chest, waking me from a fitful sleep. Careful not to disturb Livie, I slip out of bed and into the bathroom before answering.
"Reed." My contact's voice is low, urgent. "Got what you need."
My pulse quickens. "Tell me."
"Volkov's holed up at the Golden Pines Motel just outside Riverdale. Room twelve. He's got four men with him, all armed." There's a pause. "They're planning to move out tomorrow morning. Seems they've called in reinforcements from New York."
"You're sure?" I grip the phone tighter, adrenaline already flooding my system.
"Positive. My guy's been watching them for twelve hours. Volkov's definitely there, I saw him myself. They've got a woman with them too."
Diane. It has to be her.
"Reed, these guys are professionals. Military-grade weapons, rotating guard shifts. Whatever you're planning?—"
"Thanks," I cut him off. "We're even now."
I end the call and stare at my reflection. Riverdale. Just twenty minutes from here. Close enough that Volkov could strike again at any time, but far enough that we wouldn't immediately think to look there.
Perfect.
I return to the bedroom, watching Livie sleep for a moment. The medication has kept the nightmares at bay, her face peaceful for the first time since this entire ordeal. I brush a strand of hair from her cheek, letting my fingers linger against her skin.
"I'm going to end this," I whisper. "Today."
I dress quickly and silently in dark jeans, a black shirt, and the leather cut with my president's patch. My gun goes into its holster, knife in my boot. As I reach for the door, Livie stirs.
"Greyson?" Her voice is groggy from the medication. "Where are you going?"
I cross back to the bed, sitting on the edge. "Club shit, baby. Nothing for you to worry about."
She struggles to sit up, fighting the sedative still in her system. "You're going after him, aren't you? Volkov."
There's no point lying to her. "Yes."
Fear flashes across her face, cutting through the drug-induced haze. "No. It's too dangerous. Please?—"
"Shh." I press my lips to her forehead. "I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
