We keep walking. And then walk some more. Everyone is silent as dawn washes the open field in pale blue, hazy light. Insects hum in the summer. Yelena spent so long tracking down Christian that a new day has crested.
The field is out in the middle of nowhere. I’m not sure how she knew this patch of land, this sparse grassy field, would be the meeting spot.
“Sitting fucking ducks,” Dimitri curses under his breath.
We’re yards away from our cars. Yelena was strict about keeping the Russian party to a minimum. Lev stands as tall as a tree, but the calm he exudes is practiced. Surrounded by his sons, his eyes continually find Yelena. Whetherhe’s checking on her safety or trying to analyze who his wife is up to interpretation.
“This is it?” I murmur.
Yelena tilts her head in answer.
The Spider appears, and instead of fear, a question lodges itself in my brain. How long has Yelena waited for this moment?
I thought I was the only one in this city worrying about a creeping Spider coming my way. I know to some degree Yelena is cautious otherwise she wouldn’t have fought her sons coming. But another part of me thinks she’s waited for this moment not because it’s hung over her head. She wants this to end.
The Spider is smarmy, a little smirk flickering to life when he spots us. Like his brother, he is unremarkable. Tall, broad, not bad looking but not swoon worthy. This is a man used to blending in with the crowd. No one is supposed to know that he is a killer.
He holds no weapons in his hands, but I suspect he’s got at least one firearm tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
His smirk is met with blank faces.
No one dares approach Lev Zimin with this much cocky attitude. The meeting has nothing to do with him, though.
“Lenusha.” He spreads his arms out wide. “Not quite Kyiv.”
His gaze lands on Tristan. “This is the man who will kill my Mazen?”
Tristan keeps his hands clasped in front of him, his stance wide. This is his bodyguard pose. Cool, collected, and professional.
I love him dearly.
“As if he really could.” Christian spits on the ground. It’s not the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, but I can’t help butfrown. His eyes are bitter as he turns back to Yelena.“All this time, I’ve waited?—”
“You should have kept waiting.”
She’s not done speaking before there’s a crack of gunfire.
Blood drips from the single hole in the Spider's forehead. Eyes wide, mouth open. He’s dead before his knees hit the ground, his body crumpling forward.
“Well, that was fucking anticlimactic,” Elijah says after a minute of ringing silence.
His uncle, weapon drawn, shoves him. “Where the fuck did that come from? We cleared the area, nobody should?—”
Yelena, slowly and stiffly, lowers herself over the dead body, staring into his unseeing eyes. She grabs a chain around his neck, tearing it off.
When she stands, she hands it to Elijah. “Give that to Ivan’s brother.”
Elijah rocks back on his heels.
Yelena tucks an errant strand behind her ear and walks around him.
“Maz didn’t pick up when I called,” he gruffly says.
It was clear earlier Elijah didn’t know about Ivan’s familial connections, but he must at least know of this brother.
“There’s no fucking way—” Dimitri continues to stare out at the tree line. “That shot would have come from three thousand yards. Where the fuck did the sniper come from?”
Yelena’s blue eyes meet mine. “It was never my kill. I hope you understand.”