on those little girls. Mitya had seen so many vile, depraved acts, so many types of torture in his lifetime, that the idea of his woman falling into his father’s sick hands made him crazy. For a moment he couldn’t think, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the blast and ensuing chaos.
Sevastyan bumped him hard, and automatically, Mitya turned to follow him as his cousin led him out of the meeting room into the hall. The moment they stepped out into the hall, Kiriil and Josue fell in behind Mitya. Timur led Fyodor out, with Gorya right behind him.
“I put a tracker on her, Mitya,” Sevastyan said. “Take a breath, we’ll find her.”
“If that fucker touches her—” Mitya snapped.
“He won’t get to her,” Sevastyan assured over his shoulder. “She’s too smart for him, and she takes this shit seriously.”
The smoke bombs began hitting the floor, lobbed through the holes in the walls and broken windows. The men inside spread out, their gas masks protecting them as they slid into the shadows of Fyodor’s house. The room turned gray with fog and gas. The men were still. Waiting. Knowing Lazar’s men would come in shooting, expecting to find everyone inside disoriented, dead or dying. They thought they would have easy targets.
Mitya didn’t give a damn about them. He didn’t want to be stationary; he wanted to be running to protect Ania. He hissed at Sevastyan, who seemed to be staring down at his watch. He pointed up. Mitya slid the tiny but very powerful bud into his ear. It could pick up his whisper and deliver it to Sevastyan and any others who thought to use their radios.
“Where the fuck is she?” he demanded.
“I think on the roof. She’s definitely above us. Vikenti said the wall cabinet was opened and she must have armed herself and taken a mask. At least, there were several weapons missing, ammunition and a mask gone. He closed it back up just in case.”
Mitya took a breath, breathing in clean air while the room filled with tear gas. Fyodor was going to have a time cleaning the room. The blinds and furniture he could replace, but scrubbing all that wood and redoing the floors wasn’t going to be so easy. He tried to make himself think about that rather than the fact that his woman was out there somewhere and if she was spotted, Lazar would send every leopard he had to retrieve her.
Ania. Baby. Stay hidden. For me. I’ll let him skin my leopard alive if that’s what it takes to get you back. No self-respecting shifter would ever allow their leopard to take the brunt of torture or death. He meant it, though. He would give up his life in a heartbeat. He would take any torture Lazar wanted to hand out to him, and he would sacrifice his leopard for her. Dymka had already indicated willingness. The two of them would allow Lazar to do anything to them to keep Ania and Jewel safe. Mitya could barely breathe knowing Ania was out there somewhere unprotected. Dymka could barely restrain himself knowing Jewel was just as unprotected.
“She’s extremely intelligent, Mitya,” Sevastyan reiterated. “She didn’t defy you, she was caught off guard and she kept it together. She recognized the panel and she opened it. How, I don’t know, but she did it. She’s armed, and she’s got a mask. Her grandparents and parents trained her for any situation, and she knows we’ll come for her. She knows she just has to hold out long enough for us to get to her.”
Mitya couldn’t do anything about it yet. Lazar’s front team, his sacrificial pawns, were already moving toward them, coming in through the door that was down and the two holes in the side of the house. As a rule, Lazar sent that first team in to mop up. There were always five, and there were five now—crashing into the great room, guns blazing. These men weren’t aware of the fact that Lazar sent them in first because he considered them the most expendable.
Mitya shot the one bursting into the room and rushing toward the hallway. The man went down, gas mask and all, but twisted and rolled on the floor for a moment before rising. “They’re wearing vests,” he informed the others.
Calm had settled over him. Combat calm. He wasn’t the kind of man to yell and scream or get so agitated during a firefight that he lost it. Mitya was very