Watching the detached way Kirill inspects the key, I almost feel sorry for the woman. Next to him, I’m warm and fuzzy. In fact, most of us are a bundle of delight by comparison.
Our Pakhan waves us away. “Go. You all have your jobs to do.” He settles back in his chair, all signs of the trauma he spoke of erased from his face.
My job.
I think of Chloe, who’s upstairs waiting for me.
Chloe, who withheld information under torture to protect diamonds that weren’t hers.
Chloe, who saw the monster in me and chose to stay anyway.
For the first time in my life, I have something that’s mine. A woman worth protecting not because Roman ordered it, but because I need to.
Need her.
The realization doesn’t weaken me as I once would’ve feared.
It strengthens me and gives me purpose beyond following orders.
Whatever threats hover on the horizon—whatever secrets lie buried on that island—we’ll face them together.
Me and the kindergarten teacher who stole the heart I didn’t know I had.
The monster and the teacher.
Epilogue
The video feed is grainy, but the motion is sharp. Kirill Khitrenko exits the Kozlov mansion, his long strides eating up the driveway.
There he is. The Shark. Good choice.
“He’s on the move.” Beside me, Dimitri’s voice is a low hum, with energy thrumming just beneath the surface.
I don’t look away from the monitor. I watch Kirill climb into his car, the engine a faint roar through the audio feed.
“Just as you predicted,” Dimitri says.
Of course. All Roman’s ‘sons’ are predictable animals. Send in the brute, Kolya, and he leaves a trail of bodies. Send in the shark, Kirill, and he cleans up the bloody mess left behind.
A grim satisfaction settles in my gut. They took the bait.
My gaze remains locked on the screen. “He has the key?”
“In his pocket.” Dimitri’s smile is audible in his voice. “The ‘insurance’ file is the perfect lure. He’ll go right to her.”
The journalist’s daughter. Another piece on the board.
My plan is a living thing, a complex machine of interlocking parts. It feels like a good MMA training session, with the slow, patient pressure of a chokehold. You don’t rush it. You let your opponent’s own panic defeat him.
You just hold on until the lights go out.
“Roman is running scared,” I murmur.
Dimitri leans closer to the monitors, his shoulder brushing mine. “Brilliant move, Kai. Using the witnesses from the island.”
The island. For a second, the controlled air of the conservatory feels thick with humidity. With the smell of blinding rain and gun smoke.
I force the memory down. That dark piece of my past has no place here.
