The city lights blurred past the windows as the convoy of black cars surrounded us, their engines humming in unison. Yelena's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles white, but she didn't reach for her gun. Not yet.
The car in front of us stopped abruptly, and Yelena slammed the brakes, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The door of the lead car swung open, and Polina stepped out first, her expression unreadable, followed by Irene and a handful of Natalya's other associates. And then—her. Natalya emerged, her heels clicking against the pavement with deliberate slowness, her smirk sharp and knowing as she approached Yelena's window.
"Didn't I tell you?" Natalya purred, her voice dripping with amusement as she leaned down, her dark eyes flicking between Yelena and Claire. "I'd help you." Her lips curled into a smirk. "You fools have a death wish, or what?"
Claire's fingers twitched toward the gun in her lap, her voice cold. "What's it to you?"
