Chapter 29: Filthy Lies: Chapter 29

My training kicks in before conscious thought does.

“Move! Now!”

I herd Rowan and Sofiya toward the vestry, where we planned the secure room just in case this exact thing happened. Arkady flanks their other side while my security team takes positions at the doors.

Sofiya wails against Rowan’s chest. The sound is a fucking scalpel to the soul.

“Stay with them,” I order Arkady. “I need to coordinate the response.”

Rowan grabs my arm. “Vince⁠—”

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” I meet her eyes. “Keep our daughter safe.”

She nods, clutching Sofiya tighter. I watch them disappear into the vestry with Arkady before pulling my gun and moving toward the main entrance.

Dimitri’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Perimeter secured, boss. We intercepted them at the gates. Six hostiles down. Three captured.”

“Casualties on our side?”

“Two injured. Nothing fatal.”

“Hold positions. I’m coming out.”

The scene outside is barely-tethered chaos. My men have established a defensive perimeter around the church. Two black SUVs with shattered windshields are stopped at awkward angles near the entrance. Bodies lie motionless on the pavement.

Dimitri approaches, blood splattered across his white dress shirt. “We got them before they reached the door.”

“The guests?”

“Secure inside. No civilians harmed.”

I scan the scene, counting bodies, assessing the damage. Something doesn’t add up.

“This was sloppy,” I say. “The Solovyovs are better than this.”

“Maybe they got desperate.”

“Or maybe they wanted to be caught.” I approach one of the captured men. He’s zip-tied to a fence post, blood trickling from a head wound.

I recognize him. Marat Solovyov. Not a foot soldier, but a lieutenant. A made man. Someone who shouldn’t be on a suicide mission.

“Fancy seeing you here, Marat,” I say, crouching to his level. “Came to celebrate my daughter’s christening?”

He spits blood onto the pavement. “Fuck you, Akopov.”

“You know, I expected better from the Solovyovs. This attack was amateur. Predictable.” I press the barrel of my gun under his chin. “Almost like you wanted to fail.”

Fear flames in his eyes.

“Who sent you?” I demand.

“You know who.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He grins through bloody teeth. “Your time is over, Akopov. The old alliances are shifting.”

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I turn slightly to see my father emerging from the church, flanked by his guards. He surveys the scene with no reaction whatsoever.

Our eyes meet briefly before he turns away. Something about his posture, his timing, raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

When I glance back at Marat, I see that he’s looking in the exact same direction I just was.

Something about that doesn’t sit right, either.

I stay frozen in place, watching as my father adjusts his suit and walks away as if nothing happened. He returns to his guards, who escort him back toward the church.

Arkady appears beside me, silent as a ghost. “Rowan and Sofiya are secure.”

“Good.” I’m still frowning, though. “Arkady… tell me you saw that.”

“I did.” He follows my gaze to Andrei’s retreating form. “Looks like our suspicions were right.”

“He’s working with them.” I have to practically spit the words just to rid myself of them. “My own father orchestrated an attack on his granddaughter’s christening.”

Arkady says nothing. Nothing he could say would help.

“Get Marat to the warehouse. I want to know everything.” I holster my weapon. “And make sure my father doesn’t leave. Not yet.”

“What about the ceremony?”

“It’s over.” I turn back toward the church. “Get everyone out safely. The reception is cancelled.”

“And Rowan?”

“I’m going to her now.”

The secure room beneath the vestry is small but well-equipped. When I enter, Rowan sits on a bench against the wall, Sofiya against her chest. Our daughter has stopped crying, her tiny face pressed into her mother’s neck.

Rowan looks up to see me. “You’re okay.”

“We all are.” I sit beside them and cup Sofiya’s head. Her warmth grounds me, pulls me back from the murderous thoughts swirling in my head. “The threat is contained. We can leave soon.”

“What happened out there?”

I consider telling her the truth immediately but decide against it. Not here. Not with Sofiya finally calm and the danger barely passed.

“Solovyov’s men. A sloppy attack that failed.”

Rowan studies my face. “There’s more.”

“Yes.” I meet her gaze directly. “But it can wait until we’re home.”

She nods, understanding the unspoken.

I help her up and, arms linked, we reemerge back into the daylight. As I’m loading Sofi and Rowan into the car, though, I see my father once more.

He doesn’t look back at me. He’s flanked by his guards, his back straight and proud. Not the posture of a guilty man.

But I know what I saw.

I know what it means.

I know what must come next.