I think about Dmitri in his office, unaware that the woman he’s fallen for is about to destroy his life. The man who’s shown me a tenderness I never knew I could feel. The man whose touch makes me forget I was ever anyone else.
The man I will be forced to testify against.
“Think about it,” Pavel urges before he stands to leave. “These ensure you’ll have authorized advocates if circumstances become challenging.”
After he’s gone, I stare at the unsigned documents spread across the table. My signature on these papers means accepting my role as a government witness. It means embracing my identity as Agent Katya Sidorov and abandoning any possibility of remaining Katya Kozlov.
It means betraying the only person who’s ever made me feel like I belong somewhere.
But refusing to sign means facing whatever consequences my handlers have planned for uncooperative assets. I know enough about FSB operations to understand those consequences won’t be pleasant.
Dmitri has no idea he’s living with a time bomb that’s about to explode his entire world.
And I have no idea how to stop it without destroying myself in the process.
30
Dmitri
I’m on my third call about port delays when Katya kicks open my office door like she’s conducting a fucking raid.
“We need to talk. Now.”
The folder in my hands drops to the desk as I take in her posture. Gone is the confused woman who’s been tiptoeing around me for weeks.
This version stands in my doorway with her feet planted and her arms crossed, radiating the kind of rage that makes smart men very nervous.
“Good morning to you, too. Everything alright?”
“Cut the bullshit, Dmitri. I know who I am.”
My blood turns to ice water. The carefully constructed world I’ve built around her recovery starts crumbling before she even takes another step into my office.
“What do you mean?”
“I remember everything. Every goddamn detail about why I’m really here.” She walks closer to my desk, and I notice she’s moving differently. Not like the uncertain woman I’ve been protecting, but like someone who knows how dangerous she is.
“Katya—”
She stops in front of my desk and plants her palms on the surface, leaning forward. “My name is Agent Katya Sidorov, FSB domestic operations. And you’ve been lying to me for weeks.”
There it is.
The moment I’ve been dreading since I pulled her from that hospital bed.
The words punch through me like a knife between the ribs. Everything I’ve built, every moment of happiness I’ve stolen, and every lie I’ve told myself about this somehow working out collapses in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
She knows.
“How long have you known?”
“A few days. Maybe longer.” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a small stack of folded papers. “But these made it impossible to keep pretending I didn’t understand what was happening.”
“What are those?”
“Legal documents giving my handlers authority to make decisions about my future. Including decisions about testifying against you.” She throws the papers on my desk. “Someone made it very clear that my cooperation is no longer optional.”
I gather the papers and flip through them. “Where did you get these?”
