19. Chapter 19

19

Leonid

“ T ime to go,” I growl.

Clara’s body goes rigid under my hand, her usual smart mouth suddenly silent. I follow her gaze to the wall or mirrors, but there’s nothing there except our reflection.

She whips her head around so fast I think she’ll snap it; her mouth drops open. Then she looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“What?”

She blinks a few times, as if trying to convince herself of something.

“If you’re admiring my face , malishka , we can stop and get a better look.”

She blinks those big eyes at me, teeth catching her bottom lip. It’s oddly… distracting.

“I thought I saw…” She shakes her head, curls dancing across her bare shoulders. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Blyat. Since when does Clara Caldwell pass up a chance to tell me I’m an asshole?

My phone buzzes. I fish it out without taking my eyes off her face, still catching those little glances she keeps throwing my way.

Maksim:

Need more alone time with your new toy, boss?

Maksim:

Getting cozy in there.

I type back:

Get the fucking car before I shove your dick up your ass.

When I look up, Clara’s attempting to juggle every shopping bag herself, stumbling slightly in her new Chanel heels. The sight would be adorable if it wasn’t so fucking stupid.

“ Blyat ,” I mutter, watching Clara struggling with the items like some sort of stubborn child. “Give me the bags.”

“I’d rather dislocate both shoulders.” She hitches them higher, nearly tripping. The sight would be amusing if half of Canal Place wasn’t currently recording us on their phones.

I snatch three bags from her left hand. She responds by ramming her heel into my shoe.

“Such a sweet girl,” I drawl, catching another bag as it slips. “Your mother must be so proud.”

“Almost as proud as yours must be of your kidnapping habits.” She flashes me a smile that’s pure venom. “Speaking of which, how many other women have you forced to play Barbie?”

The question hits a nerve I didn’t know existed. My fingers flex against the shopping bags. “You’re the only one.”

Clara stumbles mid-step. Her head snaps up, the smirk falters, and something unreadable flickers in her eyes.

“Am I now?” she drawls, arching an eyebrow.

Suka ! Why did I say that? This woman is my prisoner, my enemy, and here I am, blurting out shit that could give her leverage.

I grab a few more bags, and we make our way outside. Maksim pulls up in the Rolls-Royce, rolling the window down with a smirk.

“Need help with the bags, boss?”

I toss a bag into the car. “Shut up, Maksim.”

Clara shoves past me, sliding into the car with as much grace as someone in stilettos and an oversized hoodie can manage. I start to follow, but something catches my attention.

At the corner of my eye, there’s a flash of movement across the street. A figure in a black SUV, parked too neatly along the curb, engine running. My instincts flare and I narrow my eyes. The driver’s side window is slightly lowered, just enough for me to notice the glint of something metallic. A camera lens? A gun?

I turn back to Clara; she’s eyeing me with suspicion as I pause. She notices my shift in demeanor, but before she can say anything, I nudge her fully into the car and slam the door, my mind racing.

Stay calm. Handle this.

I slide in beside her, closing the door with a deliberate click. Maksim pulls away from the curb, but I don’t relax. My eyes flick to the side mirror, catching the black SUV pulling into traffic a few cars behind us.

Clara crosses her arms, trying to mask her unease, but I feel the tension rolling off her. I lean forward.

“Maksim,” I say, my voice low, “take the scenic route.”

He catches my meaning instantly, his smirk fading. “Understood.”

Maksim’s whistling. Some upbeat pop song that makes me want to shoot him. But my attention is fixed on the side mirror, watching the third black SUV merge into traffic behind us.

Clara shifts beside me, shopping bags rustling as she peers out the window. Her sixth sense for trouble must be tingling—she hasn’t made a single smart comment since we left Canal Place.

“Maksim,” I bark.

“Got it, boss.” His hands grip the wheel tighter, and the Rolls lunges forward, slipping through a yellow light just before it turns red.

“Take the next turn left,” I command, eyes flicking between the mirror and the street ahead.

His whistling stops, replaced by the hum of adrenaline buzzing through the car.

I narrow my eyes, every muscle in my face tense and focused, watching the black SUVs close in like vultures circling a dying animal.

Two motorcycles appear in my mirror, weaving through traffic. Their helmets and dark jackets scream, “Not here for a joyride.” I don’t need a fucking degree to know we’re being chased.

“Seatbelt,” I order Clara, eyes fixed on the chaos behind us.

She doesn’t argue. The click of her buckle is immediate.

“Friends of yours?” she asks, voice steady despite the way her fingers grip the leather seat.

“Something like that.” I catch her eye briefly before turning back to the mirror. The SUVs are closing in, spreading out across the lanes like they’re trying to corral us. Sloppy. Stupid. “Maksim, take Chartres.”

Maksim cuts across traffic, the Rolls sliding through gaps that shouldn’t exist, drawing a chorus of blaring horns. Shopping bags spill onto the floor. Clara snatches a Chanel bag just in time, then ducks as the first bullet thuds into the back window.

“Bulletproof,” I assure her, but I don’t relax. “Stay down anyway.”

“Because that makes me feel so much better.” But she slouches lower in her seat, cursing under her breath as more shots ping off the car.

Maksim takes a hard right, sending the Chanel bags flying again. A black and white Chanel box ricochets off the passenger headrest, catching Maksim’s ear.

“ Blyat! ” He swerves slightly. “Boss, we’ve got—”

“I see them.” Two more SUVs up ahead, trying to box us in. They’re getting bolder. Or more desperate.

Clara’s watching me now, those sharp eyes catching every micro-expression. “This isn’t random, is it? They knew where to find you.”

“They knew where to find us .” I meet her gaze. “My brother sends his regards.”

Her face goes blank for a half-second before understanding hits. “ Brother? ”

A motorcycle pulls alongside us, the rider reaching for something at his waist. I grab Clara’s neck, forcing her down into the seat just as the gunshot cracks through the air. The bullet hits the window with a sharp ping , leaving a spiderweb of cracks but nothing more. Bulletproof. Thank God.

“You never mentioned a brother,” she says into my thigh, voice muffled and tight with anger.

“ Twin , actually.” I keep my hand on her neck, holding her down as Maksim swerves again. “Ludis always did have terrible timing.”

She goes completely still under my palm. Then she turns her head, her cheek pressing against my thigh, her lips dangerously close to the growing bulge in my pants. Great . My cock reacts instinctively, despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Blyat .

“Twin brother. You have a twin brother who’s trying to kill you?”

“We can discuss family drama later.” Though knowing Clara, she’s already fitting this new piece into whatever puzzle she’s been building. “Maksim, lose them, or I’m cutting your pay.”

“Like you pay me enough anyway,” he mutters, but his next turn sends two of the SUVs crashing into each other.

Clara starts to sit up. I press her back down as something much bigger than a bullet hits the roof.

“I swear to God, Leonid, if we survive this—”

The rest of her threat is lost as the world tilts sideways. Maksim’s taken us onto two wheels, scraping past a delivery truck with inches to spare. The move tears my hand from Clara’s neck. She slams into my side, her head knocking against my jaw.

And that’s when the first RPG hits the building ahead of us.

The explosion tears through concrete and steel, raining debris onto the street. Maksim curses, wrestling the wheel to keep us steady. Clara’s hand fists in my shirt, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or fury, but she’s breathing hard, her pulse racing against my skin.

“ Blyat. ”

I tighten my grip on Clara, determined to keep her safe.

But at this rate, none of us is making it out unscathed.