The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(52)

“Could you two stop for two minutes? Klaus, I hired you for a job, so do it. Mishca, stop acting like an ass.”

That made the mercenary scoff, pocketing his knife. “Whatever. If you want me to do my job, then I don’t need the Russian interfering.”

Mishca made to interject, but this time, Lauren cut him off. “Fine. What do you need?”

“I need to take a look at that rooftop.” His eyes searched her face, his expression unreadable. “Can you handle that?”

Lauren didn’t know what she would feel when she went up there. The rational side of her knew that the blood and whatnot would have been cleaned up by now, restoring the place to what it once was, but the other side feared what she might see.

“Yes,” she said, hoping that if she voiced the affirmative, it would help. “Just give me a moment.”

With a shrug, Klaus took his exit, but she doubted he went far. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Mishca didn’t waste any time voicing his opinion on the matter.

“No.”

“No?”

“Hell no. You’re not going.”

While she respected Mishca’s opinion on this, that didn’t mean she was going to heed it, not on this. “You’re overreacting…again. You’re not worried about him trying to hurt me, this is about some weird rivalry thing you have going on with Klaus.”

“Lauren—”

“I need you to trust me, Mish,” she said.

He finally, reluctantly, let her leave, making her promise to keep her phone on her at all times.

Klaus was waiting for her at the curb, spinning a set of keys in his hand. With only a tilt of his head, he barely acknowledged her presence, gesturing for her to follow him to a car that had the sleek design of a race car.

It was big and black, with white stripes going from the hood to the trunk. The windows were tinted just to the brink of legality, and from the way Klaus was admiring it, she doubted he had stolen it.

He unlocked the door for her, slamming it shut once she was inside, a gesture she hadn’t expected from him. Even the interior was decked out with racing gear, including the bucket seats and the harnesses for seat belts.

She had to admit, his car was pretty badass.



Everything was the same, at least that was what troubled Lauren as they stepped out onto the rooftop where her wedding had taken place. Cherry blossoms still in bloom, every chair in place, not a stone overturned.

It was like that day had never happened though it was seared into her memory.

Klaus had no sympathy for her however, continuing to walk down the makeshift aisle towards the front. “Show me where you were.”

Taking a calming breath, Lauren hurried behind him, stopping at the spot where she and Mishca had taken their vows. Without him asking, she pulled him to her side, positioning him where she thought Mishca had been standing.

“We were about here.”

“Run me through it.”

She went through the day in her head. “We said our vows, exchanged rings, kissed—”

He smirked, cocking an eyebrow. “Want to demonstrate?”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Mish wouldn’t be too happy about that. Besides, without him here, you wouldn’t get any enjoyment out of it.”

“Carry on then.”

“We turned, everyone was cheering, the sun was in my eye for a moment, then—” She remembered the smile on her face, the cheering of the guests… “—it was a soft noise, the sound the bullet made when it hit hit Mishca, then he fell back a-and—“

“Hey!” He snapped his fingers in her face, making her blink up at him. “Keep it together, yea? Now, what time would you say you got to the part where you saw the sun in your face?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…twelve? Twelve-thirty? Why?”

“Point in the direction where you saw it.”

He moved to stand behind her, looking to where she pointed.

“But I don’t understand how this is relevant.”

His eyes were focused across the street at the rooftop of another building. “You weren’t seeing the sun, that was probably the light reflecting off the scope of the rifle. We need to look over there.”

Not having much time to question his logic—not that she doubted him—Lauren followed Klaus to the other building, taking the elevator up to the top floor and exiting out onto the roof through the access door. Up here, there was a clear view of the hotel.

Klaus was scanning the ground, searching for something. Lauren tried to help—though she had no idea what he was looking for—but came up with nothing.

After a few seconds of just standing there, Klaus canted his head to the side, his gaze focused on something near the edge of the wall. He strode towards it, reaching out to touch a slight scuff on the concrete.

Without him having to say it, this was where the sniper had been.

He dropped down to one knee, cocking one arm back, extending the other as he mimicked holding a rifle. Lauren looked from him to the roof, remembering the way Mishca flew back. It was—

“Why did he miss?”

Klaus’ words drew Lauren from her thoughts. She crossed to his side, trying to see what he saw when he looked across the street.

“What do you mean? He shot him in the chest.”