Indebted to the Mafia King
Hesitation

Eleni

Tony hits the ground running in front of me, already yanking his gun out of his holster. Mikey fumbles with the door a second, but he's out immediately after that, the carefully laid plan of the sniper rifle abandoned behind him. I slam down the pavement, thankful I abandoned my usual heels in favor of a pair of sneakers Gianna offered me silently before we left. Different windows of the apartment block light in bright bursts. Muzzle flashes, I know. The attendant pop of the gunfire follows on their heels, like thunder after lighting. People scatter out of our way. I grip my gun at my side. No sweat makes it slip. The leather warms in my palm as I run through scenarios.

If they're keeping Dante at the top, we'll have to fight our way up. But that also means they're vulnerable to attacks from above, if we had the time to set that up. I told someone to call in all the allies we have, but that doesn't make a difference. It's not like Cal or the triads are about to loan us a helicopter on short notice.

If they're keeping him in the middle, that's the real bitch. We would have to search every floor of the towering apartment building. My heart hammers, but my breathing is smooth, so I try to count the floor as I run up. Ten, fifteen, twenty-five. What the hell am I doing? We've been fighting the Russians for months now, and they're smart, but everybody relies on familiar tactics. They kept me in the basement. Dante will be as low as they can get him. "When we get inside," I call, "head-"

Someone swings out of an alley, and I whip around, bringing my gun up to shoulder height. Line up the shot. Know you want to take that life. I squeeze one eye shut and look at the armed target in front of me. Who puts up his hands. "Should've known the Queen of Saints would be here, I s'pose."

The Irish brogue reaches my ears. The moon shines on dark red hair.

"Cal." I lower my gun. "Shouldn't have jumped out at me like that."

"Apologies, lass." He bows.

More gunfire cuts through the night. I whirl and keep running. Luckily, Cal keeps up.

"Went to the trouble of dialing old Wing," he says. "They should be circling in from the north."

I nod sharply, my gut churning. I almost shot him. I have to find the line between fast enough to save Dante and too fast to think. Another second, and we'd have lost an important ally. "Just you?" Tony asks.

"Ah, I sent my lads on a pincer, since you'd arrive fastest south." Cal shoots me a wink. "Apologies for the lack of warning, but the avenging angel look does suit you."

I make a face. I can't imagine where it lands between smile and snarl. Whatever it is, it makes Cal look quickly away.

"No sign of feds," he says.

"Gee, you think?" Tony snaps. "I thought they loved abandoned housing projects. We're off the fucking map here." We skid to a stop at the arched, rickety-looking entrance to the building.

"Down," I say. "Head down. They're going to be in the lowest basement."

Tony looks at me for a second, like he's trying to decide if I'm right. Think, Eleni, don't just act. I don't scream at him.

He turns into the building without a word. Hopefully, he—

Gunshots ring out, far closer now. A bullet lodges in the cracked wood next to my head. I flatten myself against an exterior wall. Someone yells something in Russian. Six bullets in the chamber. Inhale. Know you want to take this life.

I lean out, spot a Russian behind a fallen row of mail cubbies, and fire. He spins away, his shoulder spouting blood.

"No time to waste!" I call as I duck back. "Move when you see an opening."

On the opposite side of the entrance, Mikey nods at me, then darts inside. There's a spray of gunfire, but no pain noises. He's inside. Headed down, hopefully. Five bullets. I lean back out and hit the jackpot. Two Russians, one of which is supporting his bleeding friend. I pull the trigger twice, smoothly. Both of them fall. "My queen." Cal flips a teasing salute at me and starts to saunter inside.

The first Russian I shot looms back over the mail cubbies.

"Cal!" I yell.

He starts to turn, but it's too late. The Russian shoots him in the hip, and he topples. I plug the bastard in the middle of the fucking forehead. This time, he's not getting back up. Nobody else emerges into the entrance, so Tony darts out for Cal. I keep my gun-two bullets in the chamber-raised, waiting. After a moment, he starts to help Cal stand. Not dead, but they can't move fast. I should move in. Think, El, don't just act!

If I leave them behind, I lose two of the best fighters I could have at my back. Cal's a demon, and Tony is Dante's right hand for a reason. But if I help them, what's the best case? We dump Cal outside, and Tony and I move on? I'll lose precious seconds of potentially saving Dante.

Someone moves in my peripheral vision. Think, don't act. I glance out of the corner of my eye.

Outside the building, approaching along the wall, is Henry fucking Alcott. I'd recognize that slick smile anywhere. He has a gun drawn-not his service weapon-but held low at his side. He thinks he's sneaking up on me. Cal groans. Thinking is no longer the order of the day.

Like lightning, I whip around, take aim, and fire. Henry stumbles as I hit him in the stomach, smears blood along the rough concrete wall. I advance on him. One bullet left. He looks up at me, and I don't know how I thought he ever looked like Seb.

I fire my last bullet directly into his brain. Hesitation is dead, and so is Henry Alcott.

Tony whistles for me to catch up. Without a second to waste, I turn and run into the building.