Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Didn’t matter. Wasn’t my job.
I rounded up the men I brought for protection detail and had one car follow Roman while I drove another and went straight to the bunker. Roman took a detour, probably over to Central Park for a little bird watching, but I had to get back and check in with everyone there.
I left Rocco in charge and I’d be lucky if the whole place hadn’t burned down.
I slowed and approached the gated drive and came to a screeching hold.
The gate itself was wrecked. The metal was twisted and shattered, like something rammed through. My heart shuddered and sweat formed on my skin. I revved the engine and drove over the debris, riding fast toward the house and the bunker.
The trees were the first sign of a fight.
They were shredded in places, their trunks ripped to shreds by high-powered rifle fire. As I got closer to the buildings, smoke rose up in the air, thick and black and billowing. I stopped the car at the crest of the hill and leapt out to find the topside structure burning.
Corpses littered the ground.
My men, all of them dead.
I recognized them all. I hired them, vetted them, trained them—spent hours and days with them. We laughed, joked, shared drinks, shared smokes.
Mikey lay pale, with a thick red bullet hole in his throat. Hector had his ribs blown out, his hands against his face, lying in a pool of his own blood. Cameron was collapsed near a fountain in the middle of looking for cover.
All of them my friends. All of them dead.
There were other bodies I didn’t recognize. I kicked one over—white guy, early 30s, scar under his eye.
He wore military-grade body armor and carried an AR-15. This was no fucking joke.
The ground was drenched in water and blood. It pooled in the low places. I walked through it, gun drawn, my hand shaking.
In all my years working with these people, I’d never seen a slaughter like this before.
So many dead. Ten, twenty. I knew it happened, knew the Oligarchs were capable—but they never attacked one of their own.
I thought we were safe here.
But no, when the Oligarchs were involved, nobody was ever safe.
The bastards. The fucking bastards. I picked my way through the killing field toward the security building.
My command post was in tatters. The computers were crushed and broken. The main room was a bloodbath—it must’ve been their last stand. The fighting was vicious. Bullet holes riddled the walls and several scorch marks suggested the attackers used grenades and flashbangs to breach the door.
I found Rocco’s body in the back, leaning up against the wall, dead from a shot to the gut and the chest.
Fucking bastards.
Everything was ruined, everything broken.
Everyone gone.
I failed them.
Roman was going to lose his mind when he saw this.
Then I realized.
Fucking Roman. He was still out there.
I sprinted out of the command post, trudging over corpses, through blood and guts. I jumped back into my car and started calling as I drove away from the horror.
34
Cassie
I kissed Roman on the neck and smiled as we strolled through Central Park.
Roza stayed in the car. She said she had work to do, which was probably true, but she must’ve wanted to give us some time alone.
Which I appreciated. Roman was in a good mood, although that meeting hadn’t gone the way he wanted. Central Park seemed to cheer him up, and we talked about inconsequential things, the weather, music we liked, movies we’d watched, the small things that made up a life and somehow had slipped through my fingers. It was strange, finding out that Roman enjoyed jazz and liked the Lord of the Rings films.
“I can almost pretend that we’re regular people,” I said as I squeezed his hand. “It’s sort of nice.”
“You’ll always be normal, but I doubt I ever will be.”
“Come on, how can you say that when you think Taylor Swift makes decent music?”
“I can respect Taylor Swift as a songwriter without succumbing to normalcy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you enjoy it up there?”
He glanced down at me. “Up where?”
“On your high horse.”
He sighed. “I walked into that.”
“You sure did.” I leaned against him and hugged his arm. “That meeting. What should I know about those men?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Old Bern’s not going to be in charge of his family forever. He’s a hard ass, but predictable. Torin’s a decent enough guy, vicious when he needs to be, but otherwise fair. Kaspar’s the dangerous one.”
“I sort of got that. You didn’t like that he knew my last name.”
“No, I really didn’t. I thought you were a better-kept secret than that.”
“Am I spoiled for you now?”
“Hardly.” His eyes narrowed and I could tell he struggled with an internal problem. “I want to keep you safe, but I need to put you in danger to get to Oisin. I’m in a bind.”