Chapter 7
Chicago’s grand opera house glittered beneath chandeliers and gold trim.
Wealthy patrons filled the velvet balconies unaware that death was moving among them.
Ava walked beside Roman through the crowded lobby.
Every instinct told her this was insane.
“You brought me into a trap?” she hissed.
Roman adjusted his cufflinks calmly.
“He already knows you’re alive.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s easier to protect you where I can see you.”
That answer unsettled her far more than she expected.
Roman wore a black suit that made him look less like a criminal and more like a king disguised as one.
Women stared openly as he passed.
Men stepped aside instinctively.
Power clung to him.
Danger too.
The orchestra began tuning.
Then Ava saw him.
Viktor Sokolov.
Older now.
Silver-haired.
Immaculate.
But his eyes were monstrous.
He smiled when he saw Ava.
“Little Elena,” he said softly.
Ava froze.
That had been her mother’s name.
Roman stepped between them instantly.
Sokolov chuckled.
“You always did like rescuing strays.”
Roman’s voice dropped dangerously low.
“You should have stayed in Russia.”
Sokolov ignored him.
His gaze remained fixed on Ava.
“You have her face,” he murmured.
Ava forced herself to speak.
“You murdered my mother.”
The old man smiled faintly.
“No. Roman did.”
The world stopped.
Ava looked at Roman.
He didn’t deny it.
Sokolov leaned closer.
“He never told you?”
Roman’s jaw flexed.
“Enough.”
But Sokolov continued.
“The docks were compromised because of him. Roman betrayed us first. Your mother died because she chose the wrong man to trust.”
Ava stepped backward.
Roman reached for her.
She flinched.
The reaction hit him like a blade.
For one split second, genuine devastation crossed his face.
Then everything exploded.
Gunshots tore through the opera house.
People screamed.
Glass shattered.
Roman grabbed Ava and pulled her behind a marble column as masked assassins flooded the balconies.
The orchestra collapsed into chaos.
Sokolov vanished into the panic.
Roman fired upward with brutal precision.
Luca and the others returned fire.
Ava crouched beside Roman breathing hard.
“You lied to me.”
Roman never looked away from the gunfight.
“Yes.”
The honesty stunned her.
“Did my mother die because of you?”
Roman finally looked at her.
And in the middle of gunfire and screaming civilians, she saw unbearable guilt in his eyes.
“Yes.”
Another explosion rocked the theater.
May you like
Roman grabbed her hand.
“Be angry later,” he said. “Right now, survive.”
