“There’s more,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ve been tracking her movements. The files she accesses. The times she’s alone in Rafael’s office.”
Kirill raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“She’s still looking. Still searching for something in those restricted databases. Security protocols. Financial records. Communication logs.” I met his eyes. “She’s gathering intel, Kirill. Current intel. And the only person she’d be gathering it for is Vance.”
His expression darkened. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve seen the access logs. Cross-referenced them with the timing of the compromised operations.” I pulled out myphone and showed him the spreadsheet I’d been building. “Look at this. Two days before Seattle, she accessed the shipping manifests and security detail assignments. Three days before the warehouse, she pulled the operation timeline and personnel roster.”
Kirill studied the screen, his jaw tightening with each passing second. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” I took the phone back, my hands shaking. “So either she’s still working with him, or—”
“Or he’s forcing her to,” Kirill finished quietly. “Either way, she’s in deep. Deeper than she told you.”
The room felt too small suddenly. Too hot. I stood up and paced to the window, staring out at the Chicago skyline without really seeing it.
“What do I do?” The question came out strangled. “She lied to me, Kirill. She told me she’d stopped. Told me she’d cut him off. And I believed her. I fucking believed her because I wanted to. Because I love her. And the whole time she’s been—”
“Hey.” Kirill’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “You don’t know the full story yet. You don’t know why she’s still doing it. You don’t know what he’s threatening her with.”
“Does it matter?” I turned to face him, and I knew my eyes were wild, desperate. “She’s putting all of us at risk. She’s putting herself at risk. Our baby at risk. When does the why stop mattering?”
“When you stop loving her,” Kirill said simply. “But you don’t. So it matters.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to say love wasn’t enough when trust was shattered.
But I couldn’t.
Because he was right.
I sank back into the chair, my head in my hands. “Rafael’s going to find out eventually. He’s already suspicious. Once hestarts digging—really digging—he’ll trace it back to her. And then...”
“And then she’s dead,” Kirill finished quietly. “Rafael doesn’t forgive traitors. No matter who they’re married to.”
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
“You have to talk to her,” Kirill continued, his voice firm. “Tonight. Give her one more chance to tell you everything. The whole truth this time. No more half-stories. No more secrets.”
“And if she won’t?”
Kirill was silent for a long moment. Then: “Then you have to decide what you’re willing to sacrifice. Your loyalty to the Bratva, or your wife.”
The choice felt impossible. Unbearable.
But I knew I had to make it.
I downed the rest of my vodka and stood on shaky legs. “Thanks.”
Kirill walked me to the door. Before I left, he gripped my shoulder. “Whatever you decide, Drew—make sure you can live with it. Because once you choose, there’s no going back.”
***
The drive home felt like it took hours.
Every red light stretched into infinity. Every turn felt wrong. Every mile was torture.
My mind kept replaying the evidence. The access logs. The timing. The anonymous tip from a burner phone that could only have been her.
