He cocked a brow. “I didn’t say it was simple.”
“We’re outnumbered.”
“Not new.”
“We’re outgunned.”
He shrugged. “Also not new.”
“This is starting to feel hopeless,” I said, breath unsteady. “Nobody wins against Revenant. Not for long.”
He reached out and cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing under my cheekbone with such gentleness it nearly undid me.
“Katerina Volkov,” he murmured, “I don’t care who they are. I don’t care what they’ve built. I don’t care how many weapons, guards, scanners, or twisted little power games they have in that tower. They made one mistake.”
My throat tightened. “And what’s that?”
“They took my brother.” His thumb grazed my cheek again. “And they took you.”
Heat prickled behind my eyes; whether it was anger or fear, I didn’t know.
He stepped back just enough to reach for the bag he’d dropped by the door. “We start planning now. No sleep. No waiting. No giving them another damn second.”
He rummaged through the bag, pulling out a tablet and a thumb drive.
I paced again, adrenaline back in full force. “You know this is suicide, yes?”
He glanced up with a crooked grin that did nothing to hide the steel in his eyes.
“I prefer the term ‘creative risk.’”
I snorted despite myself. “You’re crazy.”
“And you,” he replied, “are too calm for someone who climbed out of a drainage pipe after escaping a black-ops detention wing.”
“Oh,” I replied flatly. “I’m not calm. I’m furious.”
“Good. Fury helps.” He paused, then tilted his head. “But it doesn’t hide the fact that you smell like you wrestled a sewer rat and lost.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
He lifted both brows, lips twitching. “Katerina, you are incredible. Brilliant. Beautiful. Terrifying. One of the deadliest people I know. But right now?” He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “You smell.”
Heat rushed straight to my face. “I crawled through nano-coated sludge, Andrei. I didn’t exactly think to find a luxury spa.”
He laughed quietly, the sound warm enough to take the sting out of the words. “No judgment. But you are covered in… I don’t even know.” His gaze dipped to the unidentifiable substance on my sleeves. “And I’m not even going to ask what that is.”
I stared down at myself—the dirt and slime smeared on my clothes from top to bottom, the bits of rust flaking off various parts, the unpleasant stickiness I’d been trying to ignore—and groaned. “Fine. I’m disgusting.”
“You are,” he agreed cheerfully. “Absolutely.”
I swatted his arm, which only made his grin widen.
“But,” he added, softer now, “you’re alive. And that’s the part that actually matters.”
My blush deepened, which annoyed me more than the dirt and the sludge. “Fine. I’ll shower. After we figure out the plan.”
He gave a slow, knowing nod. “Of course. But I’m standing upwind until then.”
