Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
And if Polina says her intuition is on alert…
“What’s the latest on my parents?” I ask, pouring another drink.
Rafail sighs, shaking his head. “Unlike Gleb, we can’t prove they’ve been working with anyone. But chances are? Your mother, at least, knew exactly what he was doing.”
My hands curl into fists. “Her own son…”
Rafail drags his finger along the rim of his glass with a grim nod. “She always favored your younger brother. You know that. And your father? He hated that I became the pakhan. Of course their behavior tracks, brother.”
It does. It fucking does.
“None of us would blame you for being loyal to them,” Rafail says. “If anything, it’s a point in your favor. You’re a lot of things, Matvei, but disloyal? Never.”
Polina’s staring into her glass now, silent.
And everything’s still quiet in the other room.
Too quiet.
I don’t like it.
I don’t trust it.
I need to see Anissa. I need to see her with my own eyes.
Polina meets my eyes. “Check on her,” she says, her brow furrowed. I’m already on my feet.
“She should’ve come out by now.” I’m already moving.
I stalk to the room she was in—no laptop hum. No scribbled notes. No Anissa.
My pulse slams into overdrive. “Anissa?” I call out as if she’s just around the corner. Maybe she went to use the bathroom or get a snack. I can still smell the faintest whiff of the body spray she uses clinging to the air. My little ghost. “Anissa!”
Something flashes in the corner of my eye just as a bloodcurdling scream comes from outside. Polina races to the window. “It’s Zoya. Oh my god, it’s Zoya. She’s at the gates, Rafail. She’s—what is she doing?”
Rafail opens the window, the fastest way to get to his sister. “Zoya!” he yells into the darkened night. Floodlights beam on Zoya as she falls to her knees in front of the guards, who haven’t moved position since Rafail showed us the footage.
Oh god.
Oh god, no.
“What’s happening?” Polina asks, her hand covering her mouth.
“Yana!” Rafail screams behind him. “Yana!”
The sound of footsteps echoes on the stairs. I’m at the monitor, my hands shaking. The red light means something’s recording—the screen’s recording, like a video on a phone. It’s still recording. With trembling hands, my vision blurred in fury, I hit the stop and rewind buttons until I see movement on the screen.
Five minutes ago.
She was here five minutes ago.
And she’s not alone.
Cillian fucking O’Rourke.
And Anissa… walking beside him. She’s not restrained or drugged. Her expression is unreadable. Too calm.
Like she planned this.
I asked her if they were a fucking couple. I asked her. He was too close, too out of place, I didn’t trust the fucking…
Behind me, Yana and Rafail are having a rapid discussion. Yana hands Polina a gun while Rafail calls the lockdown order for the estate. Yana goes to retrieve Zoya. Voices shout, and footsteps run through the house as security snaps into place. Windows and doors are locked. I’m dimly aware of it all happening behind me as I force myself to watch the video.
Don’t react.
Stay calm.
I’ll fucking kill him.
My vision tunnels. He didn’t take her. She went with him.
My hand shakes as I rewind the video, forcing myself to watch every frame. My stomach turns, my heartbeat racing in my ears.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafail snarls.
“She recorded it. She fucking recorded it.” I shake my head. “O’Rourke was here, Rafail. Don’t lock us down. For all you know, you’re locking the goddamn Irish in here with us.”
“We’re in an alliance. A truce,” Rafail grinds out. He’s in denial.
“Not anymore.”
I turn. Vadka. He leans against the doorway, calm as ever, his arms crossed. The room stills.
“You gonna stand there and whine about O’Rourke giving fuck all about our goddamn alliance, or are you gonna do something about it?”
I want to rip his fucking head off.
Anissa is gone.
“What did you just say?” I growl at him.
“You fucking heard me.”
“Hey.” Polina glares.
Vadka ignores her. “You’re watching the fucking video like she left you a love letter. If it were me, I’d be on that fucking road already.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just saying”—he pushes off the frame—“maybe she was in league with him. Maybe she was a fucking spy. Maybe—”
I lunge.
Rafail shouts, but I’ve already got Vadka by the collar, slammed up against the door.
“Say another word. One more goddamn word and I’ll put you through that fucking window.”
He stares me dead in the eyes. “You think this is about her running? That the Irish fucker means something? That’s not what this is about.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re talking about a woman who worked firsthand with our enemies. And her top skill? Erasing. If she wanted to be found, you’d already have her.”
“Enough! God, you stupid idiots. The video is right here. Listen!” Polina plays it for us, the whole damn thing.