Chapter 351

A sharp cry tore through the air. "Ah!"

Viktor Petrov clutched his hand, blood seeping between his fingers.

Ivan Volkov, standing beside him, turned abruptly. His breath hitched.

A knife was embedded in Viktor's palm. The gun he had been holding clattered to the floor.

Ivan's face drained of color as he noticed the thin, bleeding gash on Viktor's ear—another knife had grazed him from behind. Just looking at the wound made Ivan's own skin prickle with phantom pain. He exhaled shakily, grateful he hadn’t been the target.

Viktor, teeth gritted, raised his uninjured hand toward Evelyn Carter.

But it was too late.

Both his hands were useless now.

"I'll end you!" he snarled, voice thick with rage.

Evelyn had disarmed him completely. The gun lay abandoned on the ground.

Viktor whipped his head toward Ivan, who stood frozen beside him. "Kill her!" he barked. "Do it now!"

"I—I can't—"

Ivan's mind reeled.

He had never seen a woman move like that—like a storm, ruthless and untouchable. Every instinct in him screamed to run.

"What the hell are you waiting for?!"

Then—

A deafening siren split the night.

Blue and red lights flashed through the windows, painting the walls in pulsing hues.

Viktor's eyes widened. "You called the cops?!"

"Move!"

All three of them were wanted men. If caught, they'd rot in prison for life.

Viktor and Ivan bolted for the exit.

But Evelyn didn’t follow.

Instead, she sprinted upstairs.

Lucien Dubois lunged for her—only to miss and crash into Viktor instead.

"Get off me!" Viktor roared, shoving him away.

He had no time for this. No time to wonder why Evelyn had run up instead of out.

But Lucien clung to him like a drowning man. "You're not leaving me behind!"

Panic edged his voice. If the police got him, it was over.

"Let go! There's no time!" Ivan snapped.

Outside, the yard blazed with floodlights.

A voice boomed through a megaphone: "This is the police! The house is surrounded! Release the hostage immediately!"

Viktor and Ivan exchanged a baffled glance.

Hostage?

Who the hell was the hostage here?

Upstairs, Dmitri Sokolov strained against the ropes binding him to the chair.

The chaos below was muffled, but he could hear enough—shouting, sirens, the sharp commands of law enforcement.

His jaw clenched.

He had hoped Viktor and Ivan would win. That they'd bring Evelyn to him, broken and begging.

But the police were here.

The lights grew brighter. The sirens louder.

His pulse spiked.

He needed to escape. Now.

Then—

The door burst open.

A shadow moved too fast for him to see.

The ropes around his wrists loosened.

Dmitri flexed his hands, stunned.

What—?

He turned his head.

Evelyn stood in the corner, watching him.

His mind scrambled.

Why is she unharmed? Did Viktor fail? Then why free me?

Before he could speak, the police's voices filtered up again.

He swallowed hard. "You—"

"Shut up."

Two words. That was all it took.

Dmitri's mouth snapped closed.

The look in her eyes promised worse than death if he tested her.