BARLOW HEIGHTS was a high-end apartment complex, a slab of white stone and glass ten stories high with balconies that overlooked a shimmering blue pool. By the time we reached the fifth floor, it was twenty minutes to one.

Calahan lifted his foot to kick down the door of 502 but Konstantin got there first, lowering his shoulder and charging it like a bull. The door crashed to the floor...and there was Christina in a low-cut crimson dress, hair and make-up immaculate as always, throwing clothes into a suitcase. Getting ready to run.

“Hello darling,” growled Konstantin.

Christina looked at us and cursed. I could see her eying the door as if wondering if she could break past us and run. I shuffled sideways, making sure her way was blocked, and we glared at each other: an unsettling effect, like frowning into an enchanted mirror.

“How long?” Konstantin snapped. “How long have you been working for that bastard? When did Ralavich turn you?”

Christina blinked at him... then threw back her head and laughed. “Turned me?” She gave him a withering look. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” I said tightly. I could see how her legs were tensed: she was trying to distract us so that she could make a move.

“Ralavich didn’t turn me,” she said scathingly. “He created me.”

What?!

Christina smirked at Konstantin. “He found me, dancing at a strip club.”

Konstantin was shaking his head, unable to accept it. “No—”

“He gave me money and fancy clothes. He made me into your perfect woman, Konstantin. Sexy and glamorous and as cold-hearted as you.”

Konstantin had gone quiet, staring at her with raw hatred. She stepped forward and touched a perfectly-manicured finger to his lips. She whispered, but loud enough that all three of us could hear. “I wasn’t dumped by my boyfriend by the side of the road. I was waiting for you!”

I glanced at Konstantin, open-mouthed. Both of us were reeling. The woman I’d thought was innocent, the one I’d felt so guilty about impersonating, had been betraying him the whole time. And I, the one sent by the FBI to betray him, had wound up loyal to him.

Konstantin grabbed Christina and slammed her up against the wall. “Who’s going to be assassinated?” he roared. “Whose murder are you trying to pin on me?”

“Answer him!” I yelled. A hot, protective fury was washing through me. She’d played him from the very beginning, planned to bring him down...and yes, I’d started off doing the same—the irony wasn’t lost on me. But I’d fallen for him, whereas she never had. I was trying to put right my mistake; she didn’t display an ounce of regret.

Christina stared at him, impassive. “You think you can scare me? I work for Ralavich. If I talk, what he’ll do to me is far worse than anything you can do.”

Konstantin glared, but she was right. He’d never hurt a woman: he knew it and she knew it.

“It’s a quarter to one,” said Calahan from the doorway.

No! My chest closed up tight. It didn’t matter that we’d found her. The assassination was still going to happen. Konstantin would still be blamed: it was his word against hers and all the evidence still pointed to him.

“Is it Luka Malakov?” asked Konstantin frantically.

But Christina’s face didn’t move. God, I wanted to hit her! Konstantin was going to go to jail for the rest of his life.

“Is it Baroni? Is it Angelo Baroni?” demanded Konstantin.

Christina looked serene.

“Twelve minutes to one,” said Calahan, his voice grim.

It was all over. We’d lost. All she had to do was keep quiet and wait for our time to run out.

“Is it one of the other Malakovs?” asked Konstantin. “Vasiliy? Irina?”

I was watching her, just as I’d watched Konstantin for years. I’d spent weeks studying her, knew her face better than my best friend’s. And my weird, detail-focused brain noticed something. I’d been watching for guilt, that tiny flicker that would tell me Konstantin had hit the right name. But instead, I saw something else. A movement, barely a tremble of the muscles at the corners of her mouth.

She was trying not to smirk.

We were on completely the wrong track.

And once I knew that, and put it together with the fact it was Ralavich behind all this.... framing Konstantin for murdering a mob boss wasn’t... enough. Ralavich’s cruelty was beyond words and he went for excess. He hadn’t just killed Konstantin’s father, he’d slaughtered his entire family. The target of the assassination had to be someone whose death would be a game-changer. Their murder had to be something that Konstantin’s empire would never recover from.

There was something else didn’t make sense. One O’clock. Why had the assassin been so specific about the time? I’d been around Konstantin long enough, now, to know that mobsters weren’t that predictable. They were always racing around their empire to keep everything running smoothly. They didn’t have a daily routine, like—

I had a sudden memory. Not an image: a sound. A clock chiming one. A woman’s voice. I always shut myself in here at this time—

“It’s Carrie!” I screamed.

Everyone—even Christina—turned to stare at me. In that half-second of shock, she forgot to control her face. I saw the fear in her eyes: I was right.

Konstantin was frowning at me. “Your boss?”

I was almost panting with fear. “She eats lunch every day at one pm. Her office is walled in bulletproof glass!”

“No,” said Calahan. “That’s crazy.”

“It makes perfect sense! Carrie has had our team investigating Konstantin for years. He has the perfect motive to assassinate her. Add that to the emails and no jury is going to question it!”

“But why?” asked Calahan. “Why frame him for Carrie’s death, why not kill one of the other mob bosses? Ralavich could kill two birds with one stone.”

The implications were sinking in and they made me go weak and shaky. “Because…. Oh Jesus.” I turned to Konstantin, feeling sick. “If the FBI thinks you assassinated another mob boss, you’ll go to jail. But someone else gets promoted within your organization and it keeps going. But if they think you assassinated an FBI chief….”

“National outcry,” said Calahan. “They’ll bring in a hundred agents, a thousand. They won’t stop until they’ve dismantled every last piece of your empire. Every business you own, every street you control.”

“They’ll do in two weeks,” I said, my voice quavering, “what Ralavich couldn’t do himself in two years. They’ll wipe out the Gulyev name forever.”

“And then Ralavich will come in and fill the vacuum,” said Konstantin. “That’s why he has so many men in New York. This is what he was waiting for. And the fires... the fires were to make people afraid, so they wouldn’t dare protest when he takes over.”

He released his hold on Christina. And that was his mistake. She ducked low, sprinted forward, and slammed into Calahan, sending him staggering backwards. He growled and regained his balance, started to grab for her—

And froze. We all froze.

Christina was holding Calahan’s gun. She must have pulled it from his holster when she crashed into him. Now she had it pointed at Konstantin. She backed up a little towards the doors that led to the balcony, so that she could cover all of us.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice sugary-sweet. “But Ralavich will be here any minute: that’s why I was running. He’s mad at me because the plan went wrong. You were never meant to get arrested until after the assassination. If you actually stop it happening, it’ll be even worse for me.” She shook her head grimly. “I’ll be in one of his fucking rape clubs by tonight.”

“Cut a deal with us!” said Calahan quickly. “We can protect you!”

“No one can protect me from a man like him,” Christina told him. “But if I kill you three, everything works out just fine. We can make it look like Konstantin paid you to help him escape, and then you killed each other in a fight over money. The assassination goes ahead, Konstantin still gets the blame for organizing it, the FBI still take apart his organization and Ralavich takes over. I’ll be back in his good books. He might even reward me.” She pointed the gun right at Konstantin’s face.

My insides went ice cold. No! God, no, not Konstantin! I started forward, but the gun twitched towards me and I froze.

Konstantin looked at me and shook his head, determined to protect me.

“Pity poor Konstantin,” said Christina. “Gets fooled by one fake, then falls for another.”

Konstantin glowered at her. “This time,” he said, “it isn’t fake.”

I drew in my breath. Christina’s lips tightened in jealousy.

“And you,” Konstantin told her, “are not my perfect woman.”

And then he looked at me. And there wasn’t a shred of the cold gray left in his eyes, just blue that shone with warmth and love. I felt myself lift... and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Calahan react, too. Just a tiny, heartbreaking, lowering of his eyes. Acceptance.

Christina gave a roar of fury. Her finger tightened on the trigger and—

Suddenly, I was charging at her, my guttural yell filling the room. I wasn’t brave and I didn’t know how to fight. I had no plan. I just knew I wasn’t letting her take him.

Christina swung the gun towards me and I heard it go off. There was a hiss of air next to my cheek. And then I was slamming into her, my momentum taking us across the room. I was trying to push the gun up, away from my face. It went off again, deafening me, and we staggered on. She was in front of me so I couldn’t see where we were going. There was a jolt as Christina’s back hit something and I heard a set of doors swing open. Cold air engulfed me: we were outside—

“Hailey!” screamed Konstantin.

Christina hit the balcony handrail and we tipped—

And then we were falling through the air together, five stories up.