“Earpiece is on. She can hear us and talk back.”
Lev grins, that feral kind of excitement creeping in.
“Sweet. Been dying to see thatublyudokget what’s coming.”
Dima stands, picks up the second pistol from the table, and slides it across to Boris without a word. Boris catches it, tucks it into the side holster under his blazer, eyes still on the screen.
“Ten minutes till the speeches start. Cameras’ll be fixed, lighting drops. Good time to move into position.”
Dima nods once. “We’ll be in place before the lights dim.”
Lev rolls his shoulders, grinning. “Someone play the national anthem. I’m feeling patriotic.”
Then—
A soft crackle in the comms. Barely a breath.
Then her voice. Tentative. A little shaky. Like she’s not sure she’s supposed to be talking.
“Hello… um… can you hear me? Over.”
The room stills.
My jaw tightens.
We can’t see her anymore—not from here. But hearing her? That’s worse. It’s raw. Immediate. Like she’s inches away and I still can’t touch her.
Everything in me pulls tight. Controlled. Dangerous. Ready.
I answer, low and even. “We hear you.”
And I start moving.
33
Mary
Istand in the most ignored corner I can find, pretending to admire the centerpiece on a dessert table no one’s touched. It’s a sculpture made of spun sugar shaped like angel wings.
Fitting.
I’m trying not to pass out.
Champagne flutes clink in the background. Laughter swells like waves I can’t ride. Everyone’s dressed like old Hollywood, but their smiles don’t reach their eyes. Too white. Too perfect. Like they’re all here to watch something die and pretend it’s art.
My hands shake so badly that I keep them clenched around my clutch like it’s a weapon. Maybe it is. Lip gloss, mints, phone, and a silent prayer that I’m not called out for being a fraud.
I glance around to make sure no one’s looking, then lower my voice and talk to the air like an actual crazy person.
“Hello… uhm… can you hear me? Over.”
Crackling silence. For a second, I think the line’s dead. Or worse, that I’m alone.
Then—
“We hear you.”
His voice.
