"Which is?"
"I kill everyone and we run to South America."
"Mikhail—"
"That's Plan C. Plan B is Alexei's people will create a distraction while I extract you." I turn her to face me. "Did you think I'd let you go in there without multiple exit strategies?"
"I know you don't, but it won't be necessary. I can handle Harrison."
"I know you can. That's not the point." My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "The point is you're carrying our child. My child. And every instinct I have is screaming at me not to let you do this."
"But you're going to, anyway."
I lean my forehead against hers. "But if anything feels wrong, if your instincts tell you to run, you run. Promise me."
"I promise."
She's lying. I can see it in her eyes—she'll stay until she gets what we need, regardless of the danger. It's one of the things I love about her, and also what terrifies me most.
"Lovebirds," Alexei interrupts. "We have a few hours left to finalize this. Can we focus?"
The next several hours are a blur of preparation. Mila runs through the wire system three times, making sure the feed is clear. Boris and his team map every entrance and exit, timing routes down to the second. Alexei coordinates with his contacts inside federal law enforcement—not everyone is dirty, and some are eager to see Harrison fall.
Through it all, I watch Mariana transform. The soft woman who woke up in my arms this morning is gone, replaced by the federal agent who hunted me for two years. She's compartmentalizing, pushing down emotion to focus on the mission.
It's impressive and heartbreaking in equal measure.
"You're staring again," she says without looking up from the transcript she's reviewing—Harrison's past interrogations, looking for patterns in his speech.
"I thought we already made a point last night on that." I smile, but my tone reflects the lack of humor in my words.
"Last night you weren't trying to memorize my face like you'll never see it again."
She's too perceptive. I am memorizing her—every line, every expression, every tell that might help me know if she's in trouble tomorrow.
"Mikhail." She sets down the papers, comes to where I'm standing by the windows. "Stop it. I'm coming back."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise. To you, to our baby, to this insane family we're building."
"Our family," I repeat, pulling her against me. "You know, in Russian culture, it is a grave offense for a man to allow his wife to do anything that goes against their sacred status."
"Good thing I'm Mexican-American then. A strong, independent, decisive woman."
"Mariana—"
"I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But we don't have another choice."
"There's always a choice. We could run. Leave the country, start over somewhere Harrison can't reach."
"And let him keep trafficking witnesses and killing women? Never get justice for Anya? Living forever looking over our shoulders?" She shakes her head. "That's not a life. Not for us, not for our baby."
She's right. I know she's right. But the thought of her walking into that building, surrounded by Harrison's men, wearing a wire like a target on her back...
"If you don't come back," I say quietly, "I'll burn down the entire federal building."
"If I don't come back, I'd expect nothing less." She goes up on her toes, kisses me soft and sweet. "But I'm coming back."
