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“What details?”
“Her routine. Whether she leaves the property. Whether…” He stops, jaw working, eyes dropping to the floor, and I already know what comes next before he finishes. “Whether she’s pregnant. They asked me to confirm that specifically, a few days ago.”
I feel something in my chest go tight and cold at once, confirmation of the exact fear I’ve been carrying since the day the doctor said the word positive.
They know. Every calculation I’ve made about how much time I have left just collapsed down into something considerably smaller than I was prepared to work with tonight.
“Who gave you the assignment?”
“I don’t know his name at all. Someone reached out through a contact, paid well, said it was low risk.” His voice cracks fully now, whatever composure he walked in with completely gone. “I didn’t know what I was actually part of. I swear I didn’t know it would go this far. I needed the money. That’s the only reason I said yes.”
“You knew enough.” I straighten up. “You knew you were reporting on a pregnant woman’s movements to people who wanted her found. You made every single time you sent one of those messages.”
He doesn’t have an answer for that, because none changes what he did or what it cost.
I look at Yuri.
Yuri nods once, understanding exactly what I’m not saying.
I turn and walk out of the room before it happens, not because I can’t stomach it, but because there’s no reason to make it a spectacle down here of all places. Yuri’s efficient. He always has been. I hear the door close behind me and don’t look back.
I’m back in the study within the hour, and the house upstairs is quiet, Harper’s light already off down the hall, unaware of anything that’s happened two floors below her tonight. I sit at the desk and stare at nothing for a long while, turning over what Tomas confirmed.
The Sokolovs know she exists. They likely know, or strongly suspect, that she’s pregnant.
That combination changes everything about how much time I have left to work with, narrowing a threat that used to feel distant into something with a clock attached to it now, ticking louder than it was this morning.
I pick up the phone and start making calls, security tightened further than it’s ever been tightened on this property, every asset I have pulled in closer.
By the time I finish the last call, the sky outside has started to lighten at the edges, and I haven’t slept, and I don’t intend to until every gap I can find in this house’s defenses has been closed shut.
24
HARPER
I’m heading down to the kitchen for tea when I hear their voices, just past the corner where the hallway opens up. It’s the middle of the afternoon.
Two of the staff, a woman and one of the younger guards, are talking in hushed tones. I slow my steps without meaning to.
“…still can’t believe Yuri actually did it himself,” the woman says, voice barely above a whisper. “Right there in the basement.”
“What was he supposed to do, just let the guy walk right out of here?” The guard’s voice stays in a whisper too, but there’s an edge under it. “Kid was reporting on her. Her routine, whether she leaves the property, all of it. Straight to the Sokolovs.”
“Still... Killing him…”
“You don’t play games with people like that. Not when it’s her they’re asking about, not after everything that’s already happened in this house.”
I stop walking entirely. My hand finds the wall beside me without me telling it to, palm flat against the cool plaster like I need something solid to hold onto.
The woman lowers her voice further, and I have to strain to catch the rest. “Tomas seemed normal enough to me. I never would’ve guessed.”
“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? That’s why they picked him.”
My chest goes tight, all the air in the hallway suddenly too thin to pull in properly.
Tomas. The new hire. The one who lingered too long with my tray and asked exactly the wrong kind of question about how long I’ve lived here.
I’d talked myself out of it. Told myself it was nothing, new-hire awkwardness, my own hypervigilance seeing threats that weren’t there.
