Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I bring my mouth closer to his ear. “There’s nothing fucking noble about me. You should know.”
He doesn’t move, but I sense him shrugging.
What the hell do I know about Black Talon?
They’re beyond morals and even concerns about their own survival. They’ve torn apart third world countries, squeezing blood and treasure from war zones.
Guchkov is roughly fifty and he’s been in this underworld his whole life. Bloodthirsty, cruel. Greedy.
I hear the case snap open. Someone makes a small, miserable noise, Talbot or Fairfax.
They hate exposing the Hera Egg to harm even in this mess. They’re collectors of precious things, whatever else they are.
Think, think!
Guchkov is the boss, but his son is a tactical leader. I remember it from my research. Odds are, he’s involved in a heist this big, probably overseeing goons at one of the hostage sites.
“Tell your men to stand down,” I say, holding up the radio. “If you don’t, tell your son he’ll hear your last breath.”
Surprise flickers in Guchkov’s black eyes.
If the bastard thought I wouldn’t do this, I wouldn’t be this cruel, he doesn’t know me.
And he doesn’t.
There’s a lot he doesn’t know.
After a second, he nods, and I switch the radio on. He barks in Russian and I hold my breath. I don’t know what he says.
Something in my gut tells me idle warnings won’t be enough. I have to show him I’m absolutely serious.
Luckily, I can do that without drawing blood.
I glance over at Cleo, holding the egg in her hands.
“Put it on the desk,” I whisper. “And stand back.”
“Mr. Verity, what are you—”
Fairfax has crawled out from under the desk, poking his head up, apparently not shot after all.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck down,” I growl.
His head dives.
Cleo doesn’t hesitate, setting the egg down and walking several paces away. Fairfax flattens himself on the floor as I raise the gun, aim, and fire.
The egg shatters.
Glittering shrapnel like flashing confetti.
Cleo screams.
Guchkov probably would’ve tried to yell something if I hadn’t been pressing down on his throat. Chips of blue and gold fly everywhere like the murder scene it is.
Fairfax sputters.
Talbot just falls to his knees, shaking his head, mouthing, “No…”
“There,” I snarl at Guchkov while everyone stares in shock. “Now do you believe me? Tell your men. Tell them there’s nothing left to recover. Tell them to abort right now. It’s too late for you—the police are coming—but you can still give your team a head start to get the hell out of the country.”
He considers it for a few stark seconds with his mouth hanging open, his eyes dark and tortured. With the egg obliterated, there’s nothing left to fight over.
No point in sticking around, risking his son, who’ll be wanted for murder if daddy tells them to execute innocents in cold blood.
It’s still a gamble.
I don’t know how much a man like Guchkov cares about his family, but the vacant, killing silence says he might.
Finally, he nods, and I press the button on the radio.
This time, when he grumbles into it, his tone seems different.
Defeated. Resigned.
A younger, startled voice barks back in Russian.
Guchkov repeats his words slowly, then slumps down under my weight.
Behind us, through the ruined door hanging half off its hinges, clattering footsteps.
The cavalry comes late to the party. The SWAT team rushes in a second later in full tactical gear, swinging their guns, demanding everyone stay down.
As I step off Guchkov and throw my hands in the air, sinking to my burning knees, I smile.
“How did you know?” Cleo asks in the weak evening sunlight.
We’re sitting on the steps outside the police station. It’s been a long damn day of questions, statements, and dealing with the cops’ suspicions until they were satisfied we weren’t involved in trafficking black market artifacts ourselves.
Well, they finally know I’m innocent. Cleo, they never suspected.
Not when she went through so much to find the egg a permanent home, like Talbot and Fairfax confirmed.
“How did I know what?” I ask.
She nudges my shoulder. “Back there. You could’ve gotten people killed. But you never hesitated.”
“That was always a risk. No better options, so I had to take the ones I had. Sometimes, that’s how it goes,” I admit, tilting back to face the sky.
Anything feels easier than looking at her, knowing I destroyed her inheritance.
The last thing Leonidas left her, and it’s gone.
I don’t understand why she sounds softer now. She has every reason to hate me forever.
“Well, it paid off, hero man.” Her knee nudges mine. “We’re insanely lucky.”
We’re not, but I bite my tongue.
Instead, I sigh and glance over at her.
Two big brilliant violet-blue eyes meet mine.
No anger there. Not yet. Surprising.
She deserves the truth, though, so I’d better cough up everything.
“I looked into Black Talon before. The boot print they left in the mud at your grandfather’s place from the break-in was a good match,” I say quietly. “I knew Guchkov’s son, Sergi, was along for the ride. He’d have his most trusted people in place for a heist this big on US soil. I figured he’d be managing one of the hostage sites.”