Page 114 of Reaper’s Wrath

“Distraction in three, two, one. Go.”

I try the doorknob to confirm it’s locked, knowing Michael has drawn the occupant’s attention by throwing a dead bird at the window. It will look like a bird flew into the window, knocked itself out, and landed on the fire escape. They’ll let their guard down, which is when I enter the picture.

With my foot at the level of the lock, I kick open the door.

“What the fuck?” The curse carries through the hallway along with incoming footsteps.

The second they come into view, I throw a knife that impales the neck of one of the guards. It hits the jugular, and he goes down instantly. The other man makes a hasty retreat. I bolt after him, hearing a window crash across the suite.

Michael has joined the party.

I continue after the second guard, who realizes he’s at a disadvantage with his back to me and decides to charge me instead of running. He’s big, but so am I. We grapple for less than a minute before I’m able to slice his Achilles tendon. The guy drops like a limp toddler, screaming in pain. He won’t be bothering anyone for a while.

I go in search of Michael, who I find squaring off with Ruban in a huge office outfitted with so much gold leaf it looks like the goddam Kremlin—all but one wall, which is dedicated to an enclosure housing that damn snake.

I shudder on the inside—brought on in equal parts by the snake and the tacky decor.

Michael and Ruban circle one another. And while we’d make easy work of the Russian together, I know he needs to have this moment. He’s well aware I need Ruban alive.

“You’re the one behind my father’s death, aren’t you?” Michael demands, his voice a lethal vow.

“It was a heart attack, if I recall. That sort of thing happens when a person sticks their nose into other people’s business.” Even in a life-threatening situation, Ruban still manages to look down his nose at Michael. I suspect that’s how he speaks to most everyone. He reeks of overinflated self-importance.

Michael takes out his knife.

“I’m unarmed. You don’t even have the decency to give me a fair fight?”

“Did you give my father a fighting chance?” Michael demands.

Ruban raises his hands as if to shrug off the accusations but detours mid-movement, and before I know what’s happened, a small throwing knife embeds itself into Michael’s right shoulder.

Michael barely budges as though totally unaffected, though he switches his knife from his right hand to his left. “You’ll have to do a fuck-ton better than that if you think you’re going to walk out of here alive.”

“Are you sure about that?” His eyes cut to me. “You’ve acquired quite the list of enemies, one in particular who is willing to pay a lot of money for you.” He lifts his phone and places a call. “Your Reaper is here. Come and get him.”

Michael demands to know who Ruban is working with before I get the chance.

The bald Russian gives him a menacing smile. “You’ll see soon enough.” He flicks his arm again, and another blade is launched. This time I’m able to see it happen. Ruban must be wearing some sort of knife-shooting contraptions on his forearms. The blades shoot from beneath his sleeve seemingly out of nowhere.

The second blade embeds in Michael’s left shoulder.

I take a step forward to end this, but he stops me with a single cutting command.

“No. I’ve got this.” His eyes never stray from his target.

“You’ve got nothing,” Ruban sneers. “Your father was a worthless cunt, and so are you.”

“You killed my father, you piece of shit. Prepare to die.” Michael snarls as he gets ready to lunge.

I see Ruban reach toward his ankle for what is likely another hidden weapon, but I don’t have time to help. Simeon launches himself from beneath the enormous wood executive desk and makes a run for the door in an attempt to escape. Except he didn’t realize I was here watching, standing in his way.

With no other option, he charges me, screaming like a lunatic. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Michael launch himself at Ruban.

Fuck.

I need to help him. His wounds will slow him down. He could be in real trouble.

Lucky for me, Simeon can’t fight for shit. I wrestle with him for a few seconds before slamming his head against the wall, knocking him out instantly.