“When?”
“Tonight.”
Tonight. It’s happening tonight.
“You’re going?”
He nods.
Fear grips me. I should tell him. Maybe he’ll stay and let his men handle things.
“I’ll be back late,” he says. His lips brush over mine. “Rest. You look tired. I won’t wake you when I come in.”
I almost tell him.
And then he’s gone.
32
Sergei
I’m pissed. Bad intel. We raided the fucking warehouse and walked right into a goddamn trap.
Yuri is playing a dangerous game. He thinks he’s going to win.
“Let’s go,” I say to Kirill.
“It seemed like good information.”
“And that was the goal.”
I look around the warehouse that is sprayed with blood. I lost three men. He lost at least a dozen.
“I’ll handle it,” he says.
I know he’s talking about all of it. The mess. The intel. Everything.
I check the time; it’s just before midnight. Sofia will be asleep. She looked tired earlier. I won’t disturb her.
And now, I sit in the dark nursing a scotch that’s doing nothing to take the edge off.
Three of my men dead because I trusted intelligence I should have verified twice. Yuri played me, and I walked right into it like some amateur who doesn’t know better.
I don’t make mistakes like this.
Except I did.
Because I’m distracted. Because every decision I make now has to factor in the woman sleeping upstairs. The woman who’s become more than just a promise I made to a dying woman.
I drain the glass and pour another.
The truth crept up on me. I don’t want this to be just strategic anymore. Somewhere between her walking into my life and now, it became something else. Something I don’t have a name for. It will never be a real marriage if I’m not honest with her. She will find out one day.
I need to tell her the truth. All of it.
The door to my office opens.
“Sergei?” Her voice is soft. Uncertain.