Page 16 of Blood Oath Christmas
Later, in Baratino’sback room, the smells of roasted garlic and wine cling to the air, incongruous with the chill inside me. Viktor sits across from me, a glass of vodka sitting untouched in front of him.
He leans back in his chair, brushing a fine dust of snow from his sleeve. “After you pulled away, we finished it. Vadim lost men tonight.”
“There’ll be more. There seems to be a never-ending supply of the rat bastards.”
“But for tonight, at least, Ivy is safe,” Viktor reminds me.
“A few assholes thought they could follow her,” I say grimly. The memory of Ivy’s pale face behind the glass flashes sharp in my mind, making my gut twist. “I took care of them, but we need to send someone to check. Make sure they’re still in that ditch where I left them.”
“I’ll handle it,” Viktor says without hesitation. His eyes are steady, as if he already knows what I’m about to say next.
“She’s not safe with the Feds,” I mutter, gripping the edge of the table. “They move her around, lock her in rooms, and think a few agents and their protocols can protect her. They have no ideawho they’re dealing with. Vadim will keep sending bodies until one makes it through.”
Viktor exhales through his nose, slow and grim. “The Feds believe in procedures. Vadim believes in blood. It is not the same.”
“No,” I agree, my jaw tightening. “And she’ll be the one to pay for their arrogance if we let them keep her.”
The door creaks open then, cold air rushing in. Maksim steps inside, shaking snow from his coat, his face like carved stone. He looks between us, his expression telling me everything before he even speaks.
“Vadim has put out a hit,” he says flatly. His eyes cut into mine. “On the girl.”
The news lands like a blade, sharp and cold.
9
IVY
Iwake to silence.
Not the comforting kind, but the strange, muffled stillness that comes when you’ve been moved somewhere new. My eyes open to a ceiling I don’t recognize—low beams, uneven plaster, faint water stains spreading like veins. For a moment I forget where I am, and then it all rushes back. The gunfire, the agents dragging me through the night.
And now here I am, inanothersafehouse.
I sit up slowly, the thin blanket slipping down my shoulders. The air is cold, damp. If it’s even possible, the mattress feels even harder than the last one. Different walls, different furniture, but the same stale smell of confinement. I can’t help the bitter laugh that slips out. They keep moving me like a package, passing me from one box to another, and somehow, I’m supposed to feel safe?
A knock sounds at the door.
“Ms. Andreev?” It’s Graham’s voice, steady as always. “You awake?”
“Yeah,” I call back, rubbing the grit from my eyes. “I’ll be out in a second.”
I get dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a thick blue sweater, then go into the living room where the agents are waiting for me. Both look worn, shadows under their eyes, their shoulders tight with tension. It’s a miracle none of us were hurt last night.
“Another new house,” I mutter, sitting on the worn leather couch that looks—and feels—like it should have been tossed in the nearest dumpster a decade ago. “You guys really know how to show a girl a good time.”
Torres gives a tired half-smile. “Sorry. Last night was… messy.”
“Messy?” I echo, the word tasting sour. “It was a hell of a lot more than messy.”
Graham grabs a chair from the small card table that doubles as a kitchen table and pulls it into the living room. He sits down, his elbows braced on his knees. “We’re still not sure who all was involved. Some of the shooters were Vadim’s men. That much we know. But there were others—different tactics, different signals. Could be a rival family. We do know, though, that they weren’t shooting at us.”
I stare at him, my stomach knotting tighter. “So it’s not just Vadim who wants me dead. Great. That really helps me sleep at night.”
Torres runs a hand through his hair. “There’s no reason to think that. Whoever they were, they seemed to be after the others. They weren’t interested in us.”
Does that ease my mind? Maybe a little. Still, there were a lot of people shooting each other. How can anyone be sure they weren’t shooting at us, too?
“You’re not alone in this,” Graham says firmly, like he can read the spiral of my thoughts. “We’ll get you through today.”
