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“Then assign another man to guard her,” I agree coldly.
“Mila, don’t help him. Please,” Galina begs. The pain in her voice cuts me to the core. It’s good that I’m not looking at her but the map. Because if I look at her, I’ll want to agree with her.
“Come on,” Mila sighs as she takes Galina’s arm.
Focus on what needs to be done. Remain strong.
“Arsen, stop this right now!” Galina yells.
“Someday,” Mila says flatly, “you’ll understand that ugly things need to be done. Think of the bigger picture.”
“You don’t care that he plans to kill a child?” Galina argues.
“Ruslan is more than a child.” Mila’s patience is running out. Her voice sounds strained. “Don’t make me drag you by your hair, Galina Yevgeniyevna. I’d hate to do it, but I will.”
Kostya lets out a little grunt of surprise—unlike me, he’s watching the scene. I can’t resist anymore. I peer over my shoulder at the women. Mila has Galina by her arms, pinning them behind her back, forcing her into the hallway.
Galina grimaces, thrusting forward and fighting back. Her eyes find mine—the panic transforms into bitter hate. “Did you know he almost killed Madison?” she suddenly shouts.
Mila freezes like the air has gone out of her in a great push. She flicks her vengeful eyes at me.
It’s a long moment in time. I’m not sure if Mila will turn on me. She’s always been loyal, but I knew from the start that Madison was special to her. She related too much to the suffering of that girl.
Stay the course, I think fiercely, trying to send my thoughts into Mila’s brain.
Her brow sinks, her eyes narrowing further. Instead of asking me to confirm or deny, she closes her eyes, then rounds on Galina. “Last chance. I really don’t want to do this the hard way.”
All the strength fades from Galina. It seeps first from her angry eyes, then to her limp arms, her hanging head. Hair dangles in her face. I can’t see her expression. I should be grateful, but instead, it makes my heart shrivel.
“Galina,” I call. “When I come back, it will be with Katya.”
I won’t fail again.
Mila is the only one who looks at me. Galina shuffles all the way into the hall without a single word. Not even a sigh.
“Pakhan?” Kostya prods me.
In desperate need to do something with all the energy inside of me, I grip the desk, crushing it until my knuckles throb. “We’ll wait for Mila to rejoin us.”
“Of course,” he says.
It’s not long before the assassin returns. She enters, shutting the door and effectively shutting off all reference to what just occurred. She glances at me from the corner of her eye, and I try to get a feeling for where her head is at after learning about Madison. She doesn’t give me a chance; she nods at the map.
“No time to waste, you were saying?”
Easing my cramped hands off the desk, I trace the lines of ink Kostya drew. I go over a quick rundown of each unit, who will be posted where, and when we’ll strike on the house.
Finally, I stand to my full height and consider them both with grave seriousness. “When we encounter Yevgeniy, there’s a potential for things to get messy. Katya isn’t to be harmed.” I work my jaw as a flicker of wicked excitement takes hold. “Kill whomever you want, but Yevgeniy is for me.”
“And the boy?” Kostya asks.
The excitement dampens like autumn leaves rotting in the sun. “Make it quick and painless for him.”
It’s mercy, I tell myself.
But I don’t believe it. I never have.
The snow outside shifts in a gust of wind that pushes drifts of it off the dock. A new kind of white flashes; four geese have landed on the ice. When they spread their wings, they remind me of angels.
