“That was before I found out Dimitri took Alek to ensure my capitulation.”
“The situation is worse, if anything. Even more reason for you to stay safe here.”
Grace shot Misha a worried glance as she settled behind Evan at the strategy table. Misha knew exactly what she was thinking, but the truth was, Misha was wrong in her initial assessment. She could very well have caught a viral bug. Her vomiting could have been one of those hourly things. Sure, those were a thing. She was feeling much better. The fact she was late for her period could mean anything. The implant slowed all that down anyway.
“If I don’t turn up, Dimitri will execute Alek,” she stated. “I’ve told you how he is. The only reason he’s keeping Alek alive is because he wants me there. He hasn’t even announced it to us, has he? I mean, he hasn’t contacted you to let you know Alek is there?”
Parker shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Wyatt is right. Things have changed. You’re a civilian, you should stay here where it’s safe.”
“Dimitri wants me to turn up for our planned meeting, and he wants to use Alek to get me to do something. Just like he always does. This sick game he has of using me as a puppet isn’t working anymore, so he’s gone to bigger lengths. You don’t understand. He’ll shoot my baby brother.”
“We don’t negotiate with insane people.” Griffin folded his arms.
Panic welled inside Misha. This was all going wrong. She knew Dimitri. Understood how his brain worked. Once she arrived, she could distract Dimitri with whatever he wanted her to do, and then the others could swoop in and save Alek. Or better yet, she could convince him it was all unnecessary, and he was the man in charge as usual. God, she didn’t care what outfit she had to wear, or what promises she needed to make, as long as her baby brother was safe.
“I can get the CCPD on it,” Liza offered. “Call in SWAT. Do we have any proof that the kid is being held hostage?”
“Negative.” Parker mulled over the table. “The family said he left on his own, and they haven’t heard demands either.”
“He’s in there. I know it.” Misha’s eyes began to water.
Wyatt came to stand next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “You don’t need to convince us,” he said.
“Where do you think Dimitri would be holding him?” Parker pointed at the blueprints. “AIMI, pull up the heat map of The Kremlin on the surveillance screens.”
A screen on the wall, previously showing a news network, changed to display a satellite image. It zoomed in, and little orange, red and yellow blobs milled about. Misha could only assume it was imagery of bodies moving about the club.
At that moment, Sloan shuffled in from the direction of the elevator. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
Parker checked the time on his watch. “Everything.”
“Okay. I’ll just go back to bed.”
“No—” Parker grabbed her by the shoulder as she turned around. She jolted back into his hold. “You can man the comms. Flint is busy repairing the relay on the communications jammer you fucked up last week with the spilled soda.”
“Can’t AIMI handle the comms?”
AIMI? Misha mouthed to Wyatt.
“Artificial Intelligent Management Interface,” he whispered to her.
“AIMI isn’t infallible, Sloan. And, while we’re at it, you should be out in the field, not mooching around operations. I think we’ve indulged your sin enough. In fact, when the new security team gets here, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing again.”
Sloan whined dramatically and slouched over to where Mary and Flint worked. She picked up a headset and sat down near a laptop.
Wyatt ignored his siblings and turned to Misha. “We’ll all be going into The Kremlin with bulletproof clothing. We’ll storm the place, and before you know it—”
An alarm sounded and everyone in the room began talking at once until Parker shouted for quiet. His big voice boomed so loud that even the alarm turned off.
“AIMI?” Parker’s face was staunch as he stared at the screen on the wall. “What triggered the alarm?”
A map of the city came up, stretching from the top to the tail of the city. A red dot flashed near the bottom of the map. “There is a disturbance in the south-side of the city, here. It appears as though the South-Side Bank is under attack. Please hold. More incoming data. Triangulating the new location now.” She paused. “Analyzing police scanners. Adjusting outcome. There. Another bomb has gone off in the Quadrant Center Park.” A red spot flashed when the woman spoke. “That makes two disturbances.”
“Any footage?” Parker asked.
Screens flickered to CCTV footage of people in a park, running, screaming. Another screen showed gray dust blooming before a building, making it hard to see.
“Three disturbances.”
“What the hell?” Tony muttered as he peeled his prosthetic nose from his face. More footage came to light. More attacks. One by one, on the screen with the map of the city, little red dots appeared at random intervals.
“AIMI, anyone reporting?”
A news network video feed replaced one of the CCTV footage screens. A female news anchor was speaking—not only reporting on the unexplained explosions, but on the white-robed fanatics creating mayhem in the streets, inciting looting, causing violence.
“Faithful.” Tony spat the word out like a bad taste.
“Four disturbances.”
“Holy shit,” breathed Liza as she palmed the gun in her holster.
“It’s like my building collapse, only on a bigger scale,” Grace gasped.
Misha cast her mind back and remembered Lilo telling her that Grace lost her family in the Cardinal Bombing a few years ago. Many people died that day, all because—Misha turned to Wyatt as the memory of his confession slid home. His ex-fiancée set that bomb off and killed all those people in order to frame the Deadly Seven as the perpetrators. The city had turned on the disgraced heroes for years.
“This is different,” Wyatt said. “We know the Syndicate is behind it now, and the Faithful are caught on camera. The city will know it’s not us, either. They won’t turn the blame on us.”
“Bombs are going off everywhere!” Liza whipped her gaze to Parker. “I need to get out there. CCPD is short staffed today. I think it’s better I go as a cop.”
Parker nodded abruptly, and Liza disappeared down another corridor, presumably toward an exit. To Griffin and Evan, he spoke next. “You two are already geared up. Griff, you head here”—he pointed at a red angry spot on the south outskirts of the city—“where metal structures are in danger of collapsing. Use your power to keep those buildings up until survivors can get out. Take Tony. Stay in pairs. Evan, I want you here, near the Northside. I’ll go with you.”
“On it,” Evan replied. He shot Wyatt an apologetic look and then gave Grace a quick kiss on the lips. “See you later, Doc.”
“I’ll come too.” She collected her medical kit from where she’d left it by the door. “I’m not due at work until later tonight. They’ll need a doctor down there.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Parker waved them out.
The two of them were gone in an instant. Griffin and Tony stopped by the weapons room to load up before leaving at a run.
“What about Alek?” Wyatt said, jaw clenching. “You just going to leave him now?”
Misha was grateful for him, he’d said exactly what she’d been thinking.
“What do you want us to do, Wyatt?” Parker growled. “Just ignore all these people? There are hundreds needing our help. We have priorities.”
“Exactly. Family first, right?”
Mary and Sloan came over, and soon, all remaining Lazarus family members entered into an argument over who should go where. Wyatt hurled insults about Parker’s pride and his drive to redeem the Deadly Seven’s public name. Parker shouted back. Misha hated it. She never felt more out of place, and more useless.
And through it all, she stepp
ed back, and back, and back until her rear hit the wall near the exit. This was her fault. If she’d just said no to Wyatt when he came for her at the club, Dimitri would never have been hurt, he’d never have lured Alek, and this incredible family of heroes wouldn’t be arguing over her being a priority. Those victims of the video footage—blood, tears… pain.
Wyatt was invulnerable now, those people needed him. He could walk into a burning building and rescue victims. They needed him more than her.
Her worst fear had come true—she was a burden.
Thirty-Six
Wyatt held Parker by the scruff of his Deadly Seven combat outfit. Fuck him for saying Misha and Alek weren’t a priority. “You need to get your priorities straight.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Parker growled, his indignant eyebrow waiting for Wyatt to calm down.
He snarled through a clenched jaw and shoved Parker back. When they connected with the wall, screens wobbled and glitched. Wrath rose within Parker like a swelling tide, making Wyatt’s stomach crawl.
“Put. Me. Down.” Parker’s teeth ground.
“Fuck you, Parker. You all say you wanted me back, but the first time I ask for actual help, and you desert me.” Abandon Wyatt the way he’d abandoned them. Fuck! A surge of fury flooded his bones. He wanted to rip Parker’s head off. What was the point of it all if they ended up back where they started—a family broken apart.
“Wyatt,” Mary’s voice snapped harshly from somewhere beside him. “Check your wrath, mijo.”
What?
He had trouble seeing straight through the cloud of anger.
But…
Why was he so angry?
He shoved off Parker and searched the room for Misha. Naturally, he craved her touch. Needed it. The wrath. It fed his rage. It was everywhere. He’d gone too far… and… “Where is she?”
“My guess?” Parker rubbed his throat. “She took one look at you losing your shit and got out of here.”
She was gone. No wonder his fury had been so quick and violent to rise. Fuck. He scrubbed his face. Parker was right. She must have seen him, thought, what am I doing with this asshole, and left.
“No,” Sloan muttered from her seat in the workshop, wrapping her blanket around her tighter. “She left a while ago.”
Wyatt strode up to her. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Sloan shrugged.
Of course she wouldn’t. Too fucking lazy to even lift her head.
“Fuck!” Wyatt shouted at the ceiling. He hated feeling like this.
“Settle down,” Flint said. Always the cool one. Always so easy going. “You lot were going at it like a family of rabid dogs. It’s a lot to take in. I’m sure Misha has just gone to get some space, and if she hasn’t, she won’t get far. We’ll catch up.”
“I’m leaving,” Parker announced. “Who’s on comms?”
“I’ll do it,” Flint offered.
Parker shot Sloan a withering stare. “Last time, Sloan. I mean it. Things are about to change around here.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She took the end of her pigtail and popped it into her mouth to suck.
Parker stepped toward Wyatt and straightened to his full towering height. “This isn’t personal, Wyatt. When you get that, I expect an apology.”
He lifted his purple battle scarf to cover his nose and mouth. Golden eyes glared with the full focus of his proud center. Parker lifted his hood without breaking eye contact. “I’m traveling the city by roof. If this all blows over quickly, we’ll redirect to provide assistance. I suggest you get into your suit in the meantime, Wyatt. You want assistance from the team, then act like you’re one of us.”
Wyatt bit off his snarky retort and stared back. It took all of his self-control to nod. Parker was right. Deep inside, Wyatt knew that.
“Good.” The challenge faded from Parker’s eyes, and then he strode out.
Mary let out a hiss of breath and pinched the bridge between her eyes. “I swear you lot will be the death of me, not some knife to the gut.”
Flint snorted, pulled the spectacles down from his nose and refocused on the small black box he was pulling apart. “But we love them.”
“Don’t remind me.” To Wyatt, her face hardened. “I’ll come with you.”
“What?” Flint’s gaze lifted.
“There’s still three of us here.” Mary walked to one of the glass cabinets housing a battle suit. It was smaller than the others, black leather and weathered. “I haven’t put this on for years, but it still fits.”
Of course it did. She hadn’t been officially working as an assassin for years, but that didn’t mean she’d let go of her skills, or her physical fitness. She trained daily and put the seven through the wringer. She just didn’t go out into the field.
“No,” Wyatt said, and Flint agreed.
“You don’t heal like the kids, Mary,” Flint said. “You know this.”
The look she sent her husband could have melted stone. “Forty years, Flint. Not one vital injury.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt,” Wyatt added, his hand moving to his scar on instinct. “We regenerate. You don’t.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. I can still kick your ass.”
“Try it, and you’ll break your fist.” He was going for a laugh, trying to diffuse the situation, but Mary had none of it.
“I’m not having this conversation.” She opened her cabinet and tugged her suit down from the mannequin. She began unbuttoning her jacket. “My son needs me, I’m going.” Then she slid her don’t-fuck-with-me eyes to Sloan. “You too, mija. Suit up.”
Sloan’s mouth gaped open and the soaked ponytail strand fell from of her mouth. “But…”
“No buts.”
Sloan’s desperate gaze whipped to Wyatt. “But, I’m a liability. My reaction time is down.”
Wyatt forced his face to calm. Every second they argued, the more his panic rose. He had to go after Misha. Please let her be upstairs. “I’m not going to force you, and I’m not going to be offended if you decide not to come.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You coming?”
“But I said—”
“I know what you said, and I don’t believe it. Yes, you’re out of shape, but the first step to fighting sloth is to get up and do something. So, you’re coming with me to rescue Misha’s brother. You’re not a liability, Sloan. You’re an asset.”
“Ugh.”
He arched a cool eyebrow.
“Fine. I’m coming.” She whined, but she did it with a smile on her face. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Now let’s load up and go and find Misha.”
Hell, if she wasn’t in her room. If she was out there...
Flint came to stand in front of the wall of screens. “AIMI, search for Misha Minksi in the building.”
“Conducting a search now.”
He dressed swiftly. It felt like old times. The routine of putting on their suits, loading up with weapons, launching into action. All three of them visited the weapon’s room and synced various items to their suits—Mary went the old school route and strapped them onto her fighting leathers.
“Misha Minksi is not in the building.”
Wyatt’s heart sank. Fuck. Why, Misha. Why be so rash?
Love makes you do rash things. He knew that… or… a cold feeling flowed through him when a nasty thought came to him. Did she leave to help Alek, or was it all a ruse? Was Misha working with the Syndicate?
“AIMI,” he asked. “Pull up CCTV footage of the front of the building. Scan for when Misha left.”
Footage appeared on every screen, clearly showing Misha getting into a cab.
“Don’t go there, bras,” Sloan warned, watching over his shoulder. “She’s not Sara.”
She lied to you this morning in the bathroom. Sara lied all the time, and he never knew it. He thought—fuck, he didn’t know what to think. He grabbed his hair and pulled, pacing, blow
ing air from his mouth. As the walls began to close in, and his breath thickened in his lungs, Mary slapped him on the cheek.
“What the fuck?”
“One, you don’t curse at me. Two, Sloan is right. Misha isn’t Sara. She’s your mate. Have a little faith. Let’s think about this clearly.”
Screw Mary. You need to go. Go now. Find out for yourself.
Thirty-Seven
Yuri let Misha into The Kremlin without a problem. The big Russian simply cast his cold eyes down her body and spoke into his comms by pressing the mic at his sleeve.
“She’s here.” Yuri neglected to look at her while he spoke—presumably to Dimitri. After shooting off “da” a few times, he lowered his gaze and nodded curtly. He didn’t pat her down for weapons, didn’t even say hi.
No lapochka. No sweetheart.
More bizarrely, he left his post at the door, closed it, and took her personally to Dimitri. When she walked through the dark maze of red hallways, already teeming with customers and staff, she barely received a glance of recognition from her fellow dancers. It made her feel as though her entire life at the club had been a lie. Sure, she only ever saw it as temporary until her debt was paid, but the acquaintances and, dare she say, friendships, she’d built were obviously just a means to an end. Did any of these people ever make lasting connections? The thought made her long for what she’d built with Wyatt. With Lilo. With Grace. And what she was inevitably throwing away simply by being there.
As they passed through the main floor, she caught the eye of Joe as he packed away a fresh rack of cleaned glasses under the bar. Anastasia danced around a pole on the stage, fluttering her eyes closed, and hooking a leg on the pole to twirl away. On the adjacent pole, her sister Dominika danced with her back to Misha. Pity, regret, and resignation reflected back at Misha from all sides. In their eyes, it was clear Misha was already a ghost. The notion should make her afraid, but the reassuring weight of the gun tucked into her waistband, hiding under the bulk of her denim jacket, allowed her to relax. Whatever happened today, she would get Alek out of there. No matter what.
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