Guttural―it was such a guttural sound that memories of prison and war and grown men crying for their mothers flashed in front of Ace's mind.

Ace's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

A sob thrashed through Mavis's body. "No! Isla!" she screamed again, her eyes fixed on the bloodstain. The single small hand. The smear of red on the back window of the Sudan.

Ace hurtled the car forward. Other cars swerved wildly out of her direction, until she was close enough to the black Sudan to slam it forward.

"Duck," Ace said calmly.

Another bullet flew towards their car―but Ace jerked the steering wheel, and it dented the metal rooftop.

"Do not cry," Ace said. "Isla is not dead."

Hope flickered, tentative, in Mavis's voice. Such raw, vulnerable hope. "How do you know that?"

Ace did not answer. She couldn't. Ninjas do not die.

"I need you to drive," Ace said.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Climb on my lap and drive. Now."

This time, Mavis didn't question it. She unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled over, fitting herself between Ace's legs.

"Lean back," Ace ordered, as she unstrapped a gun from her back. The warmth of Mavis was almost intoxicating, but this was Ace's killer mode, and nothing would distract her from one thing: Save Isla.

Once the window was rolled down, Ace leaned out, keeping one hand firm on Mavis's waist.

Then she aimed her gun and fired at the back window.

Through the glass, she saw the bullet embed itself into one man's forehead.

Got you, she thought.

Isla was not dead. Ace willed it to be true.

"When I tell you to stop, brake as hard as you can."

"What?"

Ace positioned her gun. From this angle, she was within the killshot. The men in the back would have a brief window of time where she was completely exposed, but it wouldn't matter if she got this right.

"Stop," Ace said against Mavis's jaw.

Mavis braked the car as hard and fast as she could. Ace fired her gun.

The tire of the black Sudan exploded. The vehicle tilted onto its side, dipping towards the road in sudden movement.

"There will be a thirty-two second window where we can get Isla back," Ace said. "Stay here."

"Don't you fucking dare, Ace―!"

Ace slid out from underneath Mavis, setting her down onto the driver seat by her hips. "Stay here," she warned.

And like vengeance incarnate, Ace walked across the battlefield. A freeway with a series of smoking cars, left in the ruin of her own destructive driving. And right there, her enemy. Her opponent. The black Sudan with the seven-year-old girl inside, with the blood on the window and the dead man slumped against the glass.

Thirty-two seconds before either the dazed men composed themselves―or before the car exploded.

Ace did not waste time. She never did.

She wrenched open the back doors of the Sudan. Smoke exploded in front of her, and the scent of burning rubber was pungent in her nose.

"Isla," Ace murmured.

"I'm a ninja," Isla whispered. She didn't seem to even notice Ace. "This is what ninjas do."

There was a knife in her hand and a man pointing a gun at her head.

Isla's nose―it was bleeding.

The blood on the glass.

Relief. Was that pure, crystalline relief in Ace's lungs?

The moment the smoke cleared, Ace saw the man's head jerk towards her. Surprise curving his mouth into an O.

For just a second, just a heartbeat, the aim of his gun wavered off Isla.

Isla dove.

The man didn't even have time to scream before Isla had jabbed her knife into his eye.

There was nothing but sheer, vicious determination in her eyes. A battle cry hung in the air.

"Take that, tu puta madre!"

Pride and fear warred in Ace. Before Isla could kill the man, Ace did it for her.

A single shot to the head.

Almost as though she had been in a daze, Isla's head whipped towards where Ace stood.

"Mom?"

Isla's little hand lifted into the air. Her fingers were soaked in drying blood.

"No, it is Ace."

"Mom," Isla said.

Ace knelt. And Isla tripped in her attempt to spring into Ace's arms.

At the front of the car, the driver was unconscious against the steering wheel. Ace could not forget there was a countdown.

"Isla, we need to go."

"I can't move," Isla whispered.

Shock. Ace recognized it easily.

That was not a problem. Fourteen seconds left, and Ace scooped Isla into her arms as easily as if she were a teddy bear. "You are safe now, kiska."

Isla's eyes were bright. "Did you see that? I just stabbed that man in the eye."

"Yes, you did. You were very brave."

"He was going to kill me."

"You are safe now."

"Promise?"

The word was foreign on Ace's tongue. "Promise."

Isla's head lolled against Ace's chest. Unconscious.

Smoke rose in the air. Four seconds left.

As soon as Mavis saw Ace and Isla, her eyes widened. And this―this was true pain, as Mavis beheld what she thought was her dead daughter.

"No," Mavis said, voice cracking.

Ace slid into the backseat with Isla and commanded, "Drive. Now. She is alive."

It was all Mavis needed to hear before slamming the car backwards.

Just as the black Sudan exploded.

go now."

Mavis was still driving, hours later, into the countryside. Green valleys and yellow wheatstalks and occasional farm animals blurred past the window.

"Horse," Isla said when they drove past a white-flecked stallion, grazing in a meadow.

"Horse," Ace repeated automatically.

"Horse," Mavis sighed.

It was a game Isla had invented. At the sight of a farm animal, they had to say its name. Ace wasn't entirely sure what the objective of the game was, but Isla was enjoying it.

"Ace, if you're getting tired―or numb―it's fine. You can let go. Isla, mi cielo, leave the Russian assassin alone."

Through the window, Ace saw it when they passed a family of white-and-black cows.

"Cow," Isla said.

"Cow," Ace repeated.

"Cow," Mavis finished impatiently.

Ace knew Mavis was talking about Isla in her arms, but Isla was clinging to Ace so tightly that letting go was not an option, even if Ace had wanted to. And she did not want to.

In the field, Ace saw a little white sheep bleating.

"Sheep," Isla said.

"Sheep," Ace said.

"Dios mio," Mavis swore. "Isla, baby, come on and give Ace a rest. She's been holding you like that for at least three hours."

Isla only said, "Pig."

Ace repeated, "Pig."

"Mierda, can't you two hear me? Am I speaking to a wall?"

"Llama," Isla said.

"Llama," Ace said.

"Blondie, I'm going to leave you on the side of the road."

"No, you won't," said Isla.

"No, you won't," said Ace, even though that was not a farm animal.

But Isla only giggled and pressed her cheek against Ace's chest, still staring out the window.

Ace would not let go because Isla had just stabbed a man's eye. Because, if anything, Isla was still in shock. Still processing. And Ace knew better than anyone what it felt like to be a child with a man's blood on her hands.

"The cottage is not much farther," Ace said.

"Not much farther? I'm beginning to think we'll be deep into the Himalayas before we ever see it."

Another farm passed by through the window.

"Chicken," Isla said.

"Chicken," Ace said.

"Chicken," Mavis said. To herself, she muttered, "Not much farther."

Ace only smiled.

a safe house in the middle of nowhere, I didn't think you meant a cottage."

"Yes," Ace said.

Mavis's mouth was slightly open as she pushed aside emerald leaves, peering closer. "It's . . . a cottage. A real cottage."

Isla still hadn't let go of Ace the whole car ride, but now she tapped Ace's shoulder. A silent askance to be let down. Ace loosened her grip, and Isla twisted out, as lithe as a bunny.

"Wow!"

"Wow is right," Mavis said under her breath, glancing at Ace. "I pictured some dark, dusty wooden shed. Not a damn fairytale cottage."

Ace had never thought of it that way―a damn fairytale cottage―but it was true.

The cottage, hidden by twining leaves and glittering, sun-dappled trees, stood in the middle of a colourful clearing. Vines twisted up the bronze walls, lacing through the stone-hewn cracks. Little windows peeked out through the foliage, pink paint faded on the flower sills. It looked fit to house a runaway princess―Snow White hiding from the Evil Queen. A damn fairytale cottage.

"The key is right here," Ace said, snapping the thin strand of her chain necklace. A rusted key dangled from the end.

"You've had that around your neck this whole time?"

"Of course not," Ace said brusquely. "That would give my opponents the advantage of strangling me."

"Oh, yeah," Mavis said as Ace dropped the key into her hand. "That's definitely what I was thinking, too."

Isla was jumping now. "Mama, please can I have the key? I want to see the inside first."

Mavis tossed the key to Isla. But Ace did not miss the way Mavis's eyes lingered on the blood dried on Isla's palms.

"Whose cottage is this?" Mavis asked suddenly, as Isla fitted the key into the rusted cottage door.

Calista.

The memory of Calista was so sudden and so sharp Ace froze. Blue eyes. Black hair.

Ace had never backed away from a challenge.

Calista―she had been a challenge.

She had been one of the shlyukhi Aleksi favoured. A whore―it was what she had been to him. But she had been powerful, too, in her own way. She had whispered sweet little lies into his ears, and her brother had listened.

Men. Ace despised them.

Ace had first set eyes on Calista in a bar. Calista had shattered a pitcher of rum over a drunken man's head, and Ace . . . what could she say?

Watching a woman crumple broken glass between her fingers after hitting a man was attractive.

It did not help that Calista had also been beautiful.

Sleek black hair, so different from the natural blonde of most Russian women. Obviously dyed, but it suited her sharp-edged face. Her blue eyes were piercing, not ice but cobalt.

Ace had always had an appreciation for women, but this one . . .

Her smile had been gilded in venom. Her lips had tasted like sugar. And when she lied, it was as sweet as golden syrup.

Ace had loved Calista for one year. One year, and Calista had betrayed her.

Ace did not forgive.

And Calista had regretted her betrayal―while she had still been alive.

"No one that is important," Ace replied.

"So . . . this is where we're staying? A safe place from―Russian mobsters and the American Mafia and―Dio knows who else?"

"Four hitmen as well," Ace supplied.

Mavis winced. That had probably been the wrong thing to say.

"It will be fine," said Ace with what she hoped was a reassuring voice. "If they come, I have more than 742 rounds of ammo."

That was still probably the wrong thing to say.

Once Isla was inside the cottage―Ace could hear her running around―Mavis's wide brown eyes slid to Ace. The colour was like warm liquid. When Mavis blinked those long lashes over her doe-round eyes, Ace forgot her own name for three seconds.

"Today, when I saw you in the smoke―" Mavis's full mouth pursed together. Ace wanted to taste that lush, pink lower lip of hers, wanted to catch it between her teeth. "With that blonde hair of yours, you . . . you looked like an angel. Carrying my dead baby in your arms."

Ace did not―could not―speak.

"And Blondie, I―I would never trust another person with my daughter, but you . . ." Mavis seemed almost mad now. "There's just something about you. Your stupid blonde hair and your stupid blue eyes and your stupid trigger-happy qualities. I trust you, even though I shouldn't."

"I told you not to trust me. I told you I am dangerous."

"But today . . . it's clear you care about Isla. She was your priority. You honed in on her, you . . . you walked into the wreckage of that crashed car for her. You carried her out of the smoke, you . . . you held on to her for four hours on the car ride here." Mavis let out an angry laugh, balling her fists at her sides. "You even repeated after every single cow, pig, sheep, llama there was. Blondie, I swear to God, my daughter has you wrapped around her little finger and . . . and I like it. I like you."

Mavis seemed furious now. Ace did not understand: her sweet words combined with her clenched fists.

"I don't want to," Mavis continued. "Liking you is the last fucking thing I want. But I . . . I can't help myself. It's stupid."

Ace's tone was gentle. "It is not stupid." And, softer: "I like you as well."

"God!" Mavis bit out through her teeth. "This makes me want to scream! Blondie―"

But before she could finish, Ace cupped her by the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Their mouths collided, and Mavis's touch was hot, needy, angry against her.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was a clashing of lips, of tongue, of teeth. Raw and vulnerable and desperate, so desperate.

Mavis hooked her arms around the back of Ace's neck. Pulling her closer down towards her. They stumbled over emerald grass and golden-soaked leaves until Mavis's back was pressed against a tree. Until Mavis was gasping into her mouth, and Ace wanted her―needed her―

From the little window of the cottage, Isla peeked out over the flower sill and whistled.

"Isla! Jesus," Mavis said, breaking away. "I was just―ah―looking for my―um―wallet―"

"Did you find it inside of Ace's mouth?" Isla asked sweetly.

Mavis turned a lovely shade of red.

"No, no, go right ahead," Isla said, leaning on one elbow. "I don't mind. I found this really cool sword and―"

Sword?

An idea―

Ace said, "Isla . . . would you like to learn to use it?"

"Oh, so you'll teach my seven-year-old daughter how to fight with a sword, but you won't teach me self-defence?" Mavis grumbled.

An idea had sparked inside of Ace. "We are going to be staying in this cottage for the next few weeks," she said. "That is enough time to train you both."

Isla squealed, jumping up and down on the window sill. Something behind her shattered.

"Ace," Mavis said. "I was only teasing, you don't need to . . ."

But the idea had solidified inside of her. Crystallized. A songbird, just like the one that had kept her alive in Black Dolphin Prison.

"Yes, you will learn self-defence, my love."

Mavis's lips failed to hide her wide, glowing smile. Ace wanted to make her smile like that forever.

And in the window, Isla was brandishing her sword. A flowerpot crashed somewhere inside the kitchen. "Oops?"

Mavis groaned, "Mierda."

"Isla," Ace called.

Isla looked up, round eyes flickering with mischief.

Ace asked, "How would you like to become a ninja?"