Just My Luck

Chapter 9

The next events happened rather quickly. We exited the train, hopped in our vehicles, and arrived at the Ritz Carlton hotel in Moscow, Russia.

I had never been anywhere besides the United States and London, so this was like a whole new world to me. The streets of Moscow were bustling with people, bright colors filling my vision with utter wonder.

If the circumstances for our arrival were different, I would have loved to just enjoy the city.

But, alas, we weren't here for pleasure. The overwhelming weight of anxiety in my chest was a constant reminder of that fact.

The Ritz Carlton was massive. Standing outside the golden exterior, I felt as meek as I did the day I first joined the Syndicate. It was absolutely breathtaking, the walls towering over our miniscule bodies.

Grayson's lofty voice broke my awestruck scanning, his lingering gaze warming my shivering body. "Adeline, come on. The others already went inside," he sighed quietly.

I blinked, the trance of brilliance broke. It was as if an ice bucket had been poured on me, his words flowing over me and reminding me that we were here on a mission.

"Right, yeah..." I trailed off, following closely behind him.

My luggage rolled against the pavement behind me, almost drowned out by the night life of the city surrounding us like a comforting cocoon.

I could almost pretend we were normal people as we all walked to the front desk. Perhaps we were a group of friends on a Spring Break trip to Russia; but as we approached the man behind the desk, the idea immediately shattered. He looked handsome in a European way.

"Michael Manson," Grayson smoothly lied, drumming his fingers against the marble countertop. "Reservation for five."

The man typed a few things into the computer, a frown marring his sharp features.

He muttered something softly into his headset in Russian, too quiet for me to make out. As recognition lit his features, though, I couldn't help but think it was something bad.

Attention now fully on us, he extended his hand, holding out key cards to our rooms. "You are all on the top floor. Two rooms. One for two, one for three. They are, however, connected," he clarified.

His Russian accent was thick, gruff with distrust. "We've been expecting you, Mr. Ashford."

Grayson stiffened as his real name flowed off the attendee's lips. He quickly snatched the cards into his grip, body rigid and completely on alert. His eyes rapidly scanned his surroundings, like a caged animal.

A smirk crept along the attendee's face, darkening his strong features.

The shift in the air had the hairs on my arm standing on end.

"Please, do enjoy your stay," he smirked.

With shivers racing down my spine, I followed the others into an elevator to go up to our suite. I could feel the tension in the confined space, so thick it felt suffocating.

Damien's eyes rapidly scanned the small area for exits, a strategy I'm assuming helped him calm down when he felt trapped. Lucas tapped his fingers anxiously against his thigh, while Isaac and Grayson remained stoic as ever. I'm beginning to think nothing can phase them.

Thankfully, the elevator doors sprung open. The five of us spilled out of them, stopping in front of the first door.

Upon opening it, we were met with one big bed, a small kitchen, a living room, and a door that I assumed led to the other room.