If I went to ARCHEON first, they’d talk, posture, make their offers. They’d trade me Lev in exchange for Kara. But I didn’t even have Kara to offer them, plus Dmitri and Kara could be dead by then, killed by whatever dark monster this Revenant Group was.
If I went to Revenant first, I risked losing Lev entirely.
Yet, for reasons I didn’t want to name, my mind kept circling back to Kara.
Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the flash of a memory of her eyes the night we met, of how she’d walked into our lives as a spy, a liar, a weapon sent to take us apart and somehow, she’d managed to tangle up all three of us.
I stood and crossed to the window, the city stretching out beneath me in perfect, merciless order. From this height, Dubai looked empty and untouchable, but I knew better. I’d built a life out of illusions like that.
My reflection in the glass looked like Dmitri’s—cold, calculated—but the knot in my chest was all mine.
I could already hear what he would say if he were standing here:
You can’t save everyone, Roman. Prioritize. Control the outcome.
If Lev was here, he would have said nothing at all. He’d have gone in, guns blazing, and dealt with the fallout later.
But they weren’t here. I was.
I poured another drink and let it scorch a path down my throat. The cold burn helped me think.
ARCHEON wanted Kara, that much was clear. She was a means to an end. But there was no universe where I handed her back to them. They’d punish her, break her, and then most likely erase her from the face of the earth.
As much as I told myself she was just a problem to be solved, the truth was she’d already gotten under my skin.
She’d played me, fucked me, drugged me, lied to me, and I still wanted to see her walk through that door alive so that she could end up in my arms and my bed. Right after I spanked her so hard she would never so much asthinkabout betraying us again, of course.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered under my breath, setting the glass down too hard.
If I went after her first, I could at least get Dmitri back. Two for one.
Then I could deal with ARCHEON on my own terms. Lev could wait. He’d hate it, but he’d understand. He’d do the same for—or to—me.
I grabbed my phone and pulled up the encrypted contacts Dmitri had installed on all of our devices—the quiet network of men and women who owed the Markovs favors. I scrolled through and selected one in particular, a man specializing in geolocation.
I hit call. It rang once, twice.
“Orlov,” his voice rasped when he picked up. No preamble. No small talk.
“I’m sending you a picture,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “Concrete room, small dirty window, skyline, there’s a tower and a crane in the background. Likely to be somewhere in Dubai, but not necessarily. Need you to tell me where that is. Now. I’ll pay double to be your highest priority.”
“Double gets you first up. I’ll pull metadata, lens signature, skyline cues. If there’s a crane, I can usually narrow to construction permits within a fifty-kilometer radius. Give me ten.”
“Make it five,” I said.
“Ambitious. I’ll try.”
“Do whatever you have to. Prioritize motion vectors and reflections in the glass. Check for GPS bleed, camera timecode, compression artifacts—anything. Oh, one last thing. The group that took the picture is the Revenant Group. If you got anything on them, let me know.”
“On it.”
I ended the call, then grabbed my jacket. I checked the gun at my hip, then shoved a blade in my boot. I wasn’t planning on subtlety; I wanted options.
By the time I reached the door, the clock read 11:26. I sent my driver a message. My car would be waiting downstairs, engine already running.
I hesitated just long enough to glance once more at the skyline, the towers glinting back at me. I’d built my reputation on charm and chaos, on knowing when to bluff and when to burn everything down.
This time, I wasn’t bluffing.
