“You need to stop,” someone says.
I look up, my stare empty. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”
“You’ve been doing CPR for over an hour,” Ido says, his voice devoid of emotion. “He’s not coming back.”
“Shut up,” I roar. “You don’t know that.”
I keep going until hands seize me and drag me off him.
That’s when I lose it.
I swing at Ido. He takes the blows without flinching.
“Enough,” Isaak snaps.
A doctor finally rushes in, too fucking late. He kneels beside Andrew and examines him briefly.
“Time of death was over an hour ago,” the doctor says evenly. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
I stare at the body on the floor.
Russia.
That damned word echoes in my skull.
I straighten slowly, my chest heaves, as the blood dries on my hands.
“Russia,” I say again, staring down at him. “Do you think he meant the person is hiding there… or that he is Russian?”
Isaak exhales. “We’ll find out.”
I nod once.
“He’s dead. We move forward with what we have,” he adds.
I clench my jaw. “We should have had more. He was just starting to talk.”
Isaak looks at one of the men. “Make sure this is untraceable.”
The man nods.
I turn toward the door.
Russia.
The country I hate more than any other.
And the place I’m going back to, whether it wants me there or not.
Chapter 67
Milo
Russia has been quiet.
Too fucking quiet.
I’ve had no leads since I arrived, and it’s been days now.
