Page 87 of Freed By Fire
I hate second-guessing myself and operating in the darkness, but with Oliver’s betrayal still casting a long shadow over everything, I don’t have a choice.
We’re already on very thin ice, and the last thing we need is more missteps.
Like them learning that London is carrying the heir to the Payne empire.
Goddamn it.
I push my chair back and stand up. “Make sure the cook is feeding London well. She needs her strength.”
Katia frowns. “She hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”
I step out from behind the desk and smooth out my shirt. “That’s not acceptable. Make sure he makes her that mixed fried rice and chicken she likes.”
“She either won’t eat or she can’t keep it down.”
I reach for the glass nearest to me and pause. “Bring me Doctor Shepard.”
Katia doesn’t reply.
I grip the glass tighter. “I know you’re not fucking deaf, Katia, so either bring me the doctor or I’ll have someone else do it.”
Katia studies me, her expression cool and detached. “I’ll bring you the doctor, but I think you should take a minute first.”
I stride angrily over to her. “Excuse me?”
Katia doesn’t flinch. “It’s been a long night. I think it would be wise to—”
I cut off the rest of her sentence by slamming her into the nearest wall and baring my teeth. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?”
Katia’s hands hang limply at her sides. “You used to value my opinion.”
I growl. “That was before I found out how easy you are to sway. Who knew all it would take was one tiny blonde?”
Katia looks into my eyes, emotions dancing across her face. “We both know it’s not me you’re pissed at.”
I whip out the knife tucked in my sock and press it against her throat. “You aren’t here to psychoanalyze me. You’re my assassin.”
Why can’t anyone fall in line like there’s supposed to? Why does every problem I deal with only lead to a bigger fire?
Katia nods slowly and holds her arms away from her body. “I am, but I’m also one of the few people you can talk to right now.”
I press the knife tighter and think past the thundering in my ears.
I want someone, anyone, to bleed. Anything to take my mind off the knots forming in my stomach and the dread settling in my chest.
Hurting Katia won’t solve my problems.
It’ll make you feel better to draw some blood, and you know it. It’s always worked before.
I grunt and release her. She touches two fingers to her neck, and I catch a glimpse of the angry welt there before she shakes her hair out, and it forms a curtain between us.
I stare at her. “How long have you known?”
“Does it matter?”
“I was under the impression you were loyal to me,” I continue. “Clearly, I was mistaken.”
“This is between you and London,” Katia replies calmly. “It wasn’t my place to interfere.”
