"Still quiet. No communications, no movement, nothing." Another pause, longer this time. "That concerns me more than Cormac, honestly. Silence from them means they're planning something significant. Something they don't want us to see coming."
I moved to the window, staring out at the city without really seeing it. Two threats, both circling, both waiting for the right moment to strike. And in the middle of it all, Keira—the woman they wanted, the woman I'd kill to protect.
"We need to move first," I said. "Before they do."
"Agreed. I've been discussing strategy with Demyan. He thinks we should take out Cormac first—cut off the Petrovics' access point before they can use it."
Demyan had been supportive of my marriage to Keira—more supportive than I'd expected, given the complications it created. But he was also pragmatic. He understood that threats needed to be eliminated, not just contained.
"What's the plan?"
"Cormac's been using a building in Queens as his base of operations. Security is minimal—he can't afford better. A surgical strike, well-timed, could end this chapter permanently."
"Casualties?"
"Cormac and whoever's with him. Minimal collateral if we do it right." I heard him shift, could picture him leaning back in his chair with that cold, calculating expression. "Demyan'soffered to send Gleb with additional men. Between your people and his, we'd have more than enough firepower."
"When?"
"Soon. Within the week, if possible. The longer we wait, the more time they have to move first."
I considered it. A coordinated strike, backed by Chicago's resources, targeting the weaker of our two enemies. It was a smart strategy—exactly what I'd expect from Kirill and Demyan working together.
"Do it," I said. "Whatever resources you need, coordinate with Gleb. I want this finished."
"I'll start making arrangements." There was a pause, and when Kirill spoke again, his voice was marginally less cold. "How is she? Your wife?"
The question surprised me. Kirill rarely asked about personal matters.
"She's... adjusting. The video sessions have helped. She needs to feel useful."
"That's not what I meant." I could almost hear him weighing his next words. "Demyan mentioned you sounded distracted on your last call. And when I was there, she seemed... unwell. Pale. Fatigued."
"I've noticed."
"And?"
"And she says she's fine. I'm giving her space to tell me when she's ready."
"Sometimes people need to be pushed." A beat of silence. "Find out what's wrong, Rodion. Before it becomes a problem we can't control."
He ended the call without saying goodbye—classic Kirill—and I stood alone in the study, his words echoing in my head. An unknown variable. A liability. He wasn't wrong—whatever was going on with Keira, I needed to understand it. Not just for tactical reasons, but because I cared about her. Because seeing her struggle and not knowing why was driving me insane.
I found her in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. She looked up when I entered, and something in her expression made my chest tighten.
"Hey." I sat beside her, close but not touching. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Thanks. That's very reassuring."
"Keira." I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold. "Talk to me. Please. Whatever's going on, you don't have to handle it alone."
She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on our joined hands. I watched her struggle with something—some internal debate I couldn't see—and waited.
"I need to tell you something," she said finally.
