“I was suffering from memory loss!”
“Bullshit. You’ve been playing both sides, hoping to find some magical solution that lets you keep Kozlov while avoiding consequences for your professional betrayal.”
I wince at the accusation, because it’s partially true.
Some part of me hoped I could find a way to protect Dmitri without destroying myself professionally.
“What does Viktor want from me?”
“Your complete cooperation in building a case against Kozlov. Detailed testimony about his operations, his personnel, and his financial structure. Everything you learned during your infiltration.”
“And if I provide that cooperation?”
“Witness protection, new identity, relocation somewhere far from Moscow. You disappear and start over as someone else.”
“What about Dmitri?”
Pavel’s mouth twists into a smile, though there’s an edge of cruelty to it. “What about him? He goes to prison for the rest of his life, and you move on with yours.”
Hearing him discuss ruining Dmitri’s life makes something violent bloom in my chest. This man was my partner for three years. We’ve saved each other’s lives, covered for each other during dangerous operations, and trusted each other with secrets that could get us both killed.
Now he’s talking about the man I love like he’s just another criminal to be eliminated.
“And if I refuse to cooperate?”
“Then you’re a liability to be handled.” Pavel draws a suppressed pistol so smoothly I almost miss it. “The same way we handle all compromised assets who pose security risks.”
My blood turns to ice water, and my knees wobble. “You’re here to kill me.”
“Viktor’s orders were very specific: Eliminate the compromised agent and make it look like Kozlov’s doing. Two problems solved with one operation.”
“You son of a bitch,” I snap.
“Nothing personal, Katya. You were a good operative, but you forgot the first rule of deep cover work: Never get personally invested in the mission.”
Pavel raises the weapon, and time slows to a crawl.
My training kicks in automatically, and I start figuring out distances and angles in my head. He’s standing too close to miss, but far enough away that I can’t reach him before he fires.
Three years of partnership, and he’s going to execute me like any other target.
“Any last words for your lover?”
“Yeah. Tell him I’m sorry.”
Pavel’s finger tightens on the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse district like thunder, and I flinch, but I’m still standing.
Pavel’s eyes go wide. He staggers back, blood spreading as his gun clatters to the concrete. Behind him, Anya steps from the shadows, her pistol still smoking.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says as Pavel collapses to his knees. “Traffic was murder.”
“Anya?” I breathe out. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving your life.” Her gun stays on Pavel as she moves closer. “Your situational awareness has gone to shit since the memory loss.”
“How did you know?—”
