The wind howled through the shattered window as Knox’s men swept the clinic, but the assassin was gone. Clean. Precise. Just like Volkov’s signature moves.
Aria sat stiffly on the hospital bed, blood still trickling down her temple from the flying shards of glass, but her eyes were cold now. Focused.
Knox was pacing. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. "That was the second attempt in less than 48 hours," he said, voice hoarse. "They won’t stop until you’re dead, Aria."
"I know." Her voice was steady. "Which means we need to stop waiting for them to make a move."
Knox turned sharply. "You’re still healing. You almost died—twice."
"Exactly," she snapped, her voice rising for the first time. "Which is why I won’t give them another chance. I survived for a reason, K
