I hold her gaze, searching for any flicker of softness, but find nothing but fury and hurt sharpened to a fine point.
“I didn’t kill him,” I say again, quieter this time. “You know me. Even now.”
Irina’s eyes narrow, lips curling with contempt. “What I know is that you always survive, Aleksander. That’s your gift. Or your curse. But don’t pretend you’re not a killer when it suits you. Don’t pretend you ever put this family first.”
The car feels smaller with every breath, every accusation. I want to tell her more—to give her the details, the doubts, the reasons—but I know she won’t hear them.
“He had a hard drive,” I guess. Her lack of response tells me I’m right. “What’s on it?”
“Details,” she says. “Accounts. Transfers. Routes. Names. Enough to control people who think they’re untouchable. It was my backup if anyone tried to move against me.”
She keeps watching me, waiting. I lean back against the seat, tired of circling it.
“I don’t get it, though,” I say. “Why was Kirov moving it for you? You weren’t exactly allies.”
“We weren’t,” she agrees. “He hated me. I didn’t trust him.” She shrugs lightly. “But I had something on him. Something he couldn’t afford to have in the wrong hands. So when I told him he was going to carry that drive for me, he did.”
My jaw tightens. “Blackmail.”
She smiles a little wider. “Leverage,” she says. “You of all people should know the difference.”
“So Kirov was working for you all along.” Everything makes sense now. His erratic behavior on the plane, and even before, when I was about to close the biggest deal of my life.
Her eyes flick toward me. That’s all the confirmation I need.
“That’s why it fell apart,” I go on. “That’s why they backed out before I even got a chance to sit down with them.” My jaw tightens. “You had already sabotaged the deal before I made contact.”
Irina smiles. It’s small, satisfied. “I told you I would destroy you,” she says. “Your mistress and your child are in there.” She nods toward the hospital, eyes flat. “Would you risk their lives for a lie?”
She leans forward a little, close enough that I can smell her perfume. Same brand she wore when I was a kid. Same woman. Different game.
“I told you,” I say. My voice is hoarse but steady. “I don’t have the drive.”
She studies me in silence. Her jaw works, a small muscle ticking as she grinds her teeth, thinking it through. I hold her gaze and don’t look away. If she sees even a flicker, she’ll decide it means guilt.
After a moment, she gives a short, sharp nod.
“Take him away,” she says.
The door on my side yanks open. Her man grabs my arm and hauls me out of the car, rough, like I’m nothing. My feet hit the pavement hard. I wrench my shoulder once, just to prove I’m not going quietly, but I don’t fight him off. Not now.
Irina leans toward the open door, eyes locked on mine.
“You have two days to find the drive,” she says. Her voice is calm, almost casual. “Two days, Aleksander. Or you watch them die in front of you.”
The door slams, cutting off the sound of the engine as the car pulls away, leaving me in the cold, breathing hard, staring at the hospital doors.
23
BELLA
I surfaceto the sound of a monitor beeping and something cool on the back of my hand.
For a second I have no idea where I am. White ceiling. Harsh light. The smell of disinfectant. My head throbs, dull and mean, like someone left a brick inside my skull.
I turn my head and see her.
Selene is sitting in a chair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling on her phone. Her hair is smooth, her makeup perfect, like she just stepped out of a meeting instead of whatever war zone my life has turned into.
