29. Nik

CHAPTER 29

Nik

I rush Brie with me through the house to the guest room where Holden is sleeping, and give him the fright of his life in shaking him awake.

"They're here," I say grimly. "The Syndicate," I add, as it occurs to me that there's more than one organization with a target on Brie's back right now.

"What do we do?" Holden whimpers, pulling on his shoes.

This is what I was born for, what I've trained my whole life to do. Protect. Defend. Survive.

"You and Brie will go to the safe room in the security office. No, don't argue with me," I sigh, as Brie starts to do just that. "You're just going to let me do my damn job, Brie. The one you picked me for. Understand?"

"You better not get hurt," she tells me, her voice wavering.

I scoff. "Not a chance." I grab them each by a hand and drag them to the office, hustling them into the safe room hidden behind the wall panel. "Stay here, no matter what ," I order them, meeting Brie's worried gaze. "And call Juno Bianchi. See if you can get her to talk some sense into the Syndicate. Do whatever you can to call them off."

I don't want to kill them, but I will if I have to. If it means keeping Brie safe.

Brie is already pulling out her phone, but reaches out to grab my arm as I turn to leave. Her fingers are warm against my skin, a contrast to the cold metal of my gun, already in my hand. "Promise you'll come back to me."

I nod, allowing myself one moment of weakness. I lean in, kissing her forehead. "I'll come back to you," I promise. "Always."

With a final nod at them both, I step back so that Brie can seal the door. The heavy thunk of the locks engaging sounds too loud in the quiet house.

I go quickly and silently back to the main living area. Have they found a way in yet, those Syndicate harpies? My training kicks in, sharpening my senses. The architectural interior of Brie's house fades away. Now, it's just terrain. Cover. Angles. Sight lines.

I do a sweep of the layout in my mind—single floor, limited entry points, large windows that should withstand a pretty heavy round of shots, even from high-powered rifles. I just hope those damn skylights here and there throughout the house are made from the same glass.

Anyway, I've turned worse odds in my favor before.

A smashing sound from above, a few rooms away, confirms my suspicions. The skylights were regular glass, and the Syndicate women are coming in through the roof. Damn it.

I move silently to position myself in a blind spot near the stairs. The house is dead silent around me, as though holding its breath in anticipation of the coming battle.

Footsteps, quick and light. My pulse quickens, a mix of adrenaline and—if I'm honest—excitement coursing through my veins.

"Clear," a woman's voice whispers. Lyssa. Which means the other one is probably?—

"Clear," comes another voice.

Yes. Scarlett is also close by. And they know I am, too. Killers so highly trained would use hand signals, not verbal confirmation.

They're playing with me.

I ghost through the shadows, using my knowledge of the house to stay one step ahead. They're good, I'll give them that. Every movement is precise, calculated. But this is my turf now, and I'll be damned if I let them get the upper hand.

I catch a glimpse of Lyssa's blonde ponytail disappearing round a corner. I peek around to see that she's alert, gun raised, every muscle coiled and ready to spring. Scarlett's doubling her movement on the opposite side of the room, and they move in perfect time.

For a moment, I feel a pang of something like jealousy. They're partners. And they don't hide their feelings, their connection. They don't care who knows it.

I shake off the feeling. That's great for them. But right now, they're partners who want to kill me and the woman I…

I can't go there. Not now. It's time to make my presence known, to try to draw them out. I deliberately step a little heavier, make sure my footstep is heard, and then I melt back into the darkness.

Their reaction is immediate. They split up, and now I see the subtle hand signals they exchange, the way they maintain visual contact even as they separate. This is a carefully choreographed dance.

"Nik?" Lyssa calls out, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "We don't want to make this difficult for anyone."

"Come on, we're all professionals here," Scarlett adds, her voice coming from the other side of the room. "No need for this to get messy. We're not here for you."

I'm outnumbered and they're skilled. Taking them both on directly would be foolhardy. But if I can separate them, truly separate them…

I move again, letting Scarlett catch a glimpse of me before disappearing around a corner. Footsteps follow—just one set.

"Look," Lyssa's voice is further away now, tense but controlled. "We know you're just following Eva Novak's orders. We get it. But there's more going on here than you?—"

Suddenly, bright light floods the space where Lyssa stands, and I allow myself a small smile as she curses and retreats. Brie must be watching on the monitors, and is helping where she can via the smart house light functions.

Lyssa's light-blindness buys me precious seconds, and I move faster, silent on the thick carpet. Scarlett's still in front of me, just around the corner.

I raise my gun, but I'll need to take a step away from the wall to get her in my sights. I step out cautiously, aim carefully at Scarlett's head?—

From the right, Lyssa descends on me like a lightning strike, her fist grazing my cheek even as I dodge. We trade blows, disarming each other almost immediately so that we're down to hand-to-hand combat. She's fast, her technique flawless. Each strike is calculated, designed to incapacitate with brutal efficiency.

For a moment, I feel a grudging respect. It's been a long time since I've faced an opponent of this caliber.

We break apart, both of us breathing hard.

Scarlett, who was standing back and watching like this was a show, moves to flank me. "We're not here to hurt you ," she insists. "There's a bigger picture you're not seeing."

"Enlighten me."

"The list of names that we recovered from Grandmother—we're not sure yet what they mean. We only want to talk to Brie, ask her?—"

"She's not a killer," I snarl. "Don't you think she'd be out here facing you with me if she was?"

They exchange a look, and I can see the idea gives them pause. Lyssa takes a breath to speak, but before she can, everything changes.

On the other side of the room, a strange, fiery light zooms toward the floor-to-ceiling windows with a whooshing noise, and then the world explodes in a hail of glass and concrete.

A fucking rocket launcher . Someone has fired right into the?—

Before I can finish the thought, high-powered rifle rounds thump through the house, punching holes into the walls as I dive for cover.

"Colombos?" Scarlett calls out her guess, already on the floor and scrambling for cover.

"If it is, then they followed you ," I snap.

"They didn't," Lyssa says coolly from a few feet away, where she's tucked up behind a cabinet. "And an RPG doesn't seem like the Colombos' style."

She's not wrong. The list of ammunition the Colombos requested in the cache we're haggling over didn't include…

Wait. The Consortium. Has Eva sent someone after us? I suck in a breath and then duck as another round of shots slam through the room. I look at Lyssa across the room after we've both scrambled for better cover, a silent understanding passing between us. Whatever brought the Syndicate here originally, it doesn't matter now.

We're all targets.