Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

“Oh,” I say. “Um… well, that does sound good, but I’m not sure—”

“They also make homemade versions of Pop Tarts.” She glances meaningfully in Isabella’s direction. “They have a s’mores flavor that will knock your socks off.”

Isabella looks up at me, eyes wide. “Can we, Mama?”

I bite my lip and shake my head. “No, baby. We need to get home.”

The woman snaps her fingers in disappointment. “Aw, bummer. Well, let me walk you guys home at least.”

“You really don’t need to—”

“Please, I insist!” she says so pleasantly that I don’t know what to say. “You’d be doing me a favor, anyway. I’m dying to procrastinate this run as long as possible.”

I feel as awkward as I’ve ever felt in my life. “Well, we’ll just—I mean, okay—we really need to be going.”

I chance a look over my shoulder. I still don’t see the security team. People pass by on the next block over, figures moving quickly between the buildings, but no one turns down this secluded little side street.

The woman smiles when I turn back around. “Lead the way then.”

I swallow and start off in that direction. Isabella steers herself next to me and the woman falls in step.

My phone is in my purse stashed under Isabella’s wheelchair. I bend down and pull it out just as Isabella picks up the conversation.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Oh, I guess I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I?” The woman chuckles. “Well, Isabella, my name is Sofia. Sofia Volandri.”

My thumbs freeze over my phone screen. A sudden and complete panic like I’ve never felt before washes over me.

For a few seconds, I can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Even under the scars, I thought the woman looked familiar. Something about her struck a distant, buried memory. And now I understand why.

Because I have seen her before. In the engagement announcement I found at the cabin. A picture of a dark-haired, smiling Sofia standing next to Adrik.

God only knows how, but Sofia is alive.

And she’s here.

Before I can wrap my mind around the reality, something smashes into the side of my head.

Isabella screams, and I spin sideways, painful stars bursting in my vision. I stumble across the sidewalk, struggling to keep my feet under me. My head swims.

When I look up, Sofia—her face twisted in rage and scars—is charging me. I’m still stunned, but I manage to utilize some of the training Adrik has taught me. I throw an arm out diagonally to shield my face and kick out hard with the heel of my shoe. I catch Sofia in her kneecap, and it’s her turn to stumble.

“You’re not as easy to take down as I anticipated,” Sofia remarks, giving me a vicious grin. “But my brother trained me. I’m afraid I’m going to have to make this hurt.”

Fear jams my processors, making it almost impossible to think. But Isabella’s safety isn’t a thought I have—it’s an instinct. It’s a reflex. Closer to me than breathing.

Sofia lunges forward to make good on her promise, just as I cry out, “Isabella, go!”

I don’t see whether Isabella listens to me.

I don’t hear if she calls for me.

I can’t tell if she screams.

Because Sofia lands one solid punch to my jaw, and my ears ring. I drop to my knees, the world going hazy around the edges.

Then there’s another blow to my head.

I close my eyes, and I don’t open them again for a very long time.