Page 15 of The Russian's Bought Bride

I handled that wrong…not necessarily the truth of it, since that was inevitable, but the delivery and timing. Hell, the entire situation.

I’m used to being in control and knowing how people will react. I know how to steer conversations where I need them to go. Fear, anger, and loyalty are predictable and manageable, but what she gave me in there wasn’t something you manage.

In all honesty, I wasn’t even going to tell her yet. I wanted to give her the chance to rest and regain some of her strength, but her mind was too sharp to let it go. She needed answers.

Another wave of irritation moves through me, but I force it down as best as I can.

At the very least, she’s here, and not in that clinic or on the damn operating table. Instead of being carved open while they strip her down to parts and profit, she’s safe, even if she doesn’t see it that way yet.

Even if she hates me for it.

Stepping into my office, I shut the door behind me, and the quiet snaps into place like a seal around me. It gives me the chance to decompress and to momentarily forget about the pure agony she’s enduring in the spare room.

It’s better, but I know that will be a momentary thing.

I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll once before hitting Ruslan’s contact again, and it rings twice before I hear his voice.

“Yeah?”

Straight to the point, as always. It’s something I respect about the way he operates.

“What’s the status?” I ask, bracing for something I’m not going to like, given how I deviated from the plan.

He pauses, and my grip tightens slightly on the phone.

“They pulled out,” he says, flat enough to let me know the rest of it didn’t fall into place like they were supposed to.

My expression hardens. “Define pulled out.”

“Grigori Malenkov, the one in charge, caught wind that something was off after you spoke to the doctor,” Ruslan replies. “They shut it down fast and cleared out whatever they could carry. The clinic is a graveyard now.”

Closing my eyes with a steadying breath, I try to keep myself from losing it completely. Of course they did.

“They didn’t just walk,” I say, voice low. “What did they take?”

“Everything that incriminated them…files, storage drives, and any inventory they had.”

Organs.

My jaw locks, wishing more than anything that I could face them myself right now. “They’ve gone into hiding then?”

“For now.”

A sharp exhale leaves me as I lean back against the desk and stare at nothing.

Weeks—months of groundwork. Of contacts procured, surveillance performed, and perfect positioning, all gone.

Because I stepped in and deviated. Because I couldn’t let one more person die when I had the power to stop it, regardless of what it cost me.

“Shit,” I mutter, lacking the right words to say as I scrub a hand down my face.

“Yeah,” Ruslan agrees, lacking any real judgment.

As much as I try to keep it tempered, irritation flares hotter in me now, and while I want to blame Malenkov and Volodin, this blame rests on my shoulders. I did this.

“I had them,” I mumble, unable to keep the disappointment in. “One more night and I would’ve had everything we needed to bury them.”

“I know.”