"Yes."
"And if you're wrong? If she betrays us?"
"Then I'll handle it myself."
More silence. Then, finally, a long exhale from Demyan.
"Alright," he said. "Do what you need to do. But keep us informed. And Rodion—"
"Yes?"
"Be careful. Whatever you feel for this woman, don't let it blind you. You're still a Rysev. You still have enemies. And right now, you're holding the one thing they want most."
"I know."
"Good. Kirill?"
"I have nothing more to add." Kirill's voice was back to its usual flatness. "Except that I'll be watching. If she makes one wrong move—if she does anything to suggest she's not what she claims—I'll know."
"Understood."
"And Rodion?" A pause, and something almost human flickered in his tone. "Congratulations on your engagement."
He hung up before I could respond. Demyan followed a moment later, leaving me alone with my phone and the pale morning light filtering through the windows.
That had gone better than expected.
I checked the time. Nearly seven. Keira might be awake by now, or she might be trying to sleep after a night as restless as mine. Either way, I needed to see her. Needed to know where we stood.
I walked to the guest room and knocked softly. No answer. I knocked again.
"Come in."
She was sitting in the armchair by the window, still wearing the robe from last night, her legs curled beneath her. She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, tension in the set of her shoulders—but composed. Watchful. The therapist's mask firmly in place.
"Did you sleep?" I asked.
"No."
"Neither did I."
"I know. I heard you moving around." She nodded toward the chair across from her. "Sit. We need to talk."
I sat. The dynamic felt strange—reversed somehow, like we were back in her office, except she was the one in control now. Maybe she'd always been the one in control. Maybe I'd just been too distracted to notice.
"I have questions," she said.
"I expected you would."
"Timeline. If I agree to this—how quickly does it need to happen?"
"The sooner the better. Every day we wait is a day Cormac has to regroup. To find you. To try again."
"How soon?"
"Forty-eight hours. Maybe less."
Something flickered in her expression. Surprise, maybe. Or fear. She covered it quickly.
