Montes won’t let me up, but I can still see legs beneath the table. I look for pairs that are stationary. Panicked people run or hide. Attackers don’t.

I see three separate sets of legs. I’m pulling the trigger before I can think twice about it. They go down, one after the next. When I see their heads and chests come into my line of sight, I shoot those too.

For a moment, I’m not positive I hit the perpetrators. There’s the terrible possibility that these were innocents I took out. But the shots cut off abruptly.

An eerie silence follows.

Dust, plaster, and misted blood hang heavy in the air. Around us, scattered bodies lay. The woman closest to me is missing an eye, and across from me the wife of Shanghai’s regional leader slumps against the wall, clutching her heart, her blood seeping between her fingers. Her eyes meet mine, and I see her surprise as she gasps in a breath.

Zhi crawls towards her, his body trembling with the effort as he drags his limp lower body across the floor.

The king’s face is awash with horror as he takes in the pair as well.

That could’ve been us. I can tell that thought is running on repeat in his head.

“Montes,” I say, gently pushing at him. He still pins me down.

His nostrils flare when his attention returns to me. I push against him again, signaling that I want to get up. I think he’s going to refuse, but then, reluctantly, he rolls off of me.

I rise to my feet, Montes joining me a moment later.

Most of our guards have sustained some sort of injury. Those that haven’t now move over to our attackers. I begin to follow.

Montes catches my forearm.

“Not yet,” he says. At least, that’s what I think he says. My ears are still ringing.

I don’t bother arguing with him, I simply yank my arm from his grasp and head towards the rest of the men.

I can feel the king at my back, bearing down on me, and I sense his frustration. He’s having trouble controlling an uncontrollable thing.

I reach the king’s soldiers just as they’re checking the shooters’ vitals. I kick away our attacker’s weapons, though I’m almost positive all three are dead.

I study our attackers. Two men, one woman. All dressed as waiters. One of them was the very man that ushered us into the dining room.

He’d timed the attack.

As I stare down the three gunmen, I notice several strange lumps around the woman’s midsection. Now I crouch down, my hand going to the edge of the woman’s shirt. I untuck the fabric and peel it back.

Beneath …

It’s been a hundred years since I last saw an explosive, but unless this is an elaborate hoax, they haven’t changed much.

“Bomb,” I whisper.

“What was that?” Montes says from behind me.

I stand and began to back away, one of my hands aimlessly groping for the king’s.

“Bomb,” I say much louder. “The woman is rigged.”

The king’s guards peer beneath the shirts of the other two shooters. I don’t have the same view that they do, but I still see enough. And when their grim gazes meet my own, I have all the confirmation I need.

My eyes move across the room where half a dozen of the survivors stare at me with frightened eyes. Several more moan from the ground. “Everyone needs to evacuate,” I say. “Now.”

Chapter 37

The King

I’m tired of this, tired of death always following my queen. We barely escaped with our lives. Again.

Immediately after Serenity discovered the bombs, we were evacuated, along with the rest of the surviving guests, leaving only the dead behind.

I lean back in my seat, ignoring the view of Shanghai as it begins to blur past us. If I look back now, I’d still be able to see the tiled roof of the shikumen-style building we were in not five minutes ago.

But I don’t glance back; I look at Serenity, really look at her.

Her jaw’s tight as she stares out the window. She looks tired, angry—desolate. I can hardly bear it.

I reach out, my thumb rubbing against her cheekbone. She leans into the touch, closing her eyes briefly. There are smears of blood and dust all over her.

I’m so tired of seeing her wear this war paint.

I have only myself to blame. She’s a monster I created long before I had her in my clutches. This is the karmic reckoning I’ve put off for so long.

I want her eyes on me, her eyes and her bloodied, bruised skin.

Without a second’s more thought, I drag her onto my lap, refusing to fight the impulse.

“Montes, stop.” She pushes halfheartedly against my chest as I reel her in. I’m surprised she’s still going through the motions of keeping me away. We both know she no longer wants to. “Let me go.”

“No,” I whisper harshly.

And then, all at once, Serenity gives in. Her body sags into mine, and she leans her forehead into my chest. I feel her body quake, and automatically I begin to stroke her back, like I’m some caring, good guy and not a heartless son of a bitch. And Serenity clutches me tighter, like she’s a fragile, docile thing and not the killing machine she is.

She breathes in a ragged gasp, pulling herself together. Slowly she draws her head away from my chest. The look she gives me … men have lived and died and never seen that look.

BOOM—BOOM-BOOM!

The explosions go off at our backs, one right after another. Serenity’s eyes widen.

A second later the car skids from the force of the shockwave.

Shit.