50. Mikhail

Raoul is standing on the opposite side of the lobby. He's wearing a tuxedo, but anyone paying close enough attention would know he doesn't belong here. He's too rigid, his dark eyes scanning the theater-goers constantly for possible threats, for any sign that our plan has been found out and we should retreat.

But there's no chance of a retreat tonight. I'd rather go down in a hail of enemy gunfire than spend another minute in the mansion.

I haven't seen Viviana since early this morning, but I spent every single moment all day aware of exactly how far away from me she was. I could practically count how many steps it would take to go to her. How many seconds it would take for me to strip her down and do what we do best.

But I know as soon as I empty my frustration inside of her, we'll be at the same fucking impasse.

She'll still be a distraction I can't afford.

And I'll hate myself for wanting her anyway.

Two chimes ring through the theater's sound system, signaling the end of intermission. Everyone shuffles to the two sets of double doors that lead to the main theater.

I look at Raoul and he nods. We follow the crowd towards the doors, but break away at the last second for a hallway that leads to the private boxes.

"There's still time to change the plan," Raoul mutters under his breath. "One call and someone else can pull the trigger."

He's been watching me closely all day. Raoul has a way of knowing when I'm at a tipping point. He's worried I'm about to go off the edge.

He should be. Hell, maybe I already have.

I shrug. "Me, someone else, it's all the same. What does it matter?"

If Anatoly were here, he'd say it matters a hell of a fucking lot. He is pissed Raoul and I are doing this without him—but Viviana likes Anatoly. They have a bond. I want him there with her right now.

"It matters because you have more… responsibilities than you used to."

He's talking about the Bratva, sure. But I know what Raoul is actually thinking of. Who he is thinking of.

Dante.

Viviana.

What happens to them if I die tonight?

I shake my head. "This is my mess. I'm going to be the one to clean it up."

He sighs. "Could you see if Helen was there?"

I sat through the first act of the show, but I don't have a clue what it's about. My attention was on the private box closest to the stage.

The box we're walking to now.

"No. But I identified our target."

Even from the back of the theater, I recognized the man in the security footage from the attack on the lounge last night. Yanis Drakos is Helen's uncle and the head of security for his brother. But last night, he led the charge on a business that has been in Novikov control for decades. He murdered my guards and innocent waitresses.

He started a war.

So if Helen is stupid enough to be sitting next to him after what he has done on her behalf, she deserves whatever is coming.

If Raoul disagrees with my call, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he checks his weapon as we mount the stairs and then sends a text to one of the men waiting in the audience below.

"The security working the exits were disposed of just before intermission. Our guys have replaced them now. We have fifteen minutes before the drugs wear off and the guards wake up. They're tied up, but the noise?—"

"So we kill him before fifteen minutes is up."

If things go my way, this won't take more than one or two.

Raoul nods wearily. "You make the kill and we move out before they lock the theater down. The police are on our side tonight. They've agreed to give us a small window to flee. We could shoot our way out in a pinch, but neither of us want to do that."

As nice as a full-out fight would be for the tension crawling under my skin, I have no interest in taking out innocent bystanders.

"It's an execution. We get in, kill him, and get out. It's simple."

It should be simple, anyway. But just as we're about to round the final corner to Yanis Drakos' box, I know something has gone wrong.

There are voices in the hallway.

I peek around the corner and see two men standing guard outside the door. There's the bulge of a weapon on one man's hip.

Raoul freezes next to me. He's as surprised as I am.

Yanis has never had guards outside of his box before. They definitely weren't here during the first act, either.

He knows.Somehow, Yanis knows something is going on tonight and he's prepared to fight.

Raoul is going to pull us out. He doesn't like the looks of this and neither do I. If Yanis is expecting an attack, it means things just got ten times more dangerous for everyone involved.

But retreating now would be a sign to the Greeks that I'm intimidated. It would be like throwing open the gates of my house and telling them to take whatever they'd like. Letting them get away with an outright attack on the Novikov Bratva would be handing them Viviana and Dante on a silver platter. Because they won't stop with the lounge they destroyed. They'll keep coming until Viviana is out of the picture and Helen is stationed at my side.

But that isn't going to happen. Ever.

Raoul reaches for my arm just as I whip around the corner. Before either of the guards can react, I grab the closest one and press my gun below his ear.

"Don't make a sound or I'll paint this wall with your brains."

Raoul curses behind me before he pulls his gun on the second guard. "Don't move, cabrón."

I quickly think through logistics, but there's no way we leave these guards alive. They're a risk. I just don't yet know how we kill them quietly.

Then the emergency exit behind me opens and killing them quietly becomes the last thought in my mind.

I pull the trigger half a second before Raoul does the same. The two guards drop dead, but two more charge into the hallway to replace them.

If I had any doubt that the Greeks saw this attack coming, it's gone now.

There isn't even time to wonder how they figured it out. There's only time to kill the newest threat in front of us.

The guards seem shocked to have walked into the middle of an active fight, which gives us a one second head start. It's enough for Raoul to shoot the first man to walk through the door between the eyes. His friend ducks and fumbles for his gun, but I kick him in the stomach. He sprawls on his back and I kneel down next to him.

I press my gun to his neck. "How many more of you are there?"

Before he can answer, I hear raised voices coming from the theater. So much for being discreet.

Raoul's phone is buzzing nonstop, messages pouring in from the men stationed inside the theater. "We have to go."

I kill the man on the floor and stand up. "Go if you want to, but I'm finishing this."

He wants to argue. I can see it in his face. Then his expression clears and he nods. "I'm with you."

I kick open the door to the private box. Beneath us, the theater is in chaos. One performer is still singing, either trying to keep people calm or completely unaware of what is happening. But my focus is on the small space in front of me.

Two guards form a human wall between me and what I know is Yanis Drakos.

"Don't die for him," I advise them. "Don't throw your lives away for this asshole."

But a woman hiding in the corner of the box shrieks, drowning out my words, and the entire theater erupts in panic.

One of the guards lunges forward, his shoulder catching me in the stomach. I slam back against the door, breathless for a second. Then I bring the grip of my gun down on the man's head as Raoul fires at the other guard.

The man's arms loosen around my middle. I manage to kick him off and then land a second blow to the center of his chest. He collapses onto the other guard, who is clutching a gaping wound in his throat.

At the same time, Raoul and I finish them.

With his disposable guards wiped out, Yanis presses his palms together and drops to his knees. "Please. Please! I ask for mercy, Mikhail." His mustache quivers with fear and sweat.

"We have to go," Raoul whispers.

I haven't been keeping track of time, but we must be at least halfway through our fifteen-minute window by now and the entire theater knows something is wrong.

That window is closing fast.

It's fine.

This won't take but a second.

I press my gun to Yanis's sweaty forehead. "Even if I had any mercy, I wouldn't waste it on you."

I pull the trigger. Yanis collapses in a limp pile of limbs as the woman in the corner screams again and again and again. She is sobbing and shaking, her heels scrabbling against the thin carpet in an effort to get even further away from me. The only way out for her is over the balcony.

It's an idea.

Then again, it's not always a bad thing to leave a witness.

"I don't have anything to do with Yanis's business," she weeps. "He tells me nothing. Please. Please don't?—"

I wave for her to be silent. "Tell Yanis's niece that she started this war. Her uncle's blood is on Helen's hand."

Then I dip my chin in farewell and leave the woman to deal with the cooling corpse of her lover.