My hand was already on the doorknob, and I was about to step out of the room when she finally said it, “I-I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry I told him where she was, Alex, I’m sorry!”
There it was—that apology Isowanted to hear, but it was too late.
It was way too fucking late for all that.
30
Debrief Room
Jade
The frigid SUV zipped past sunny streets and palm trees with me, Xavier, and Vova in the backseat. The car was Xavier’s, but Vova was the boss here.
“Give me arm,” he commanded Xavier, who had changed into all black. His hand was bandaged, but he lookedrough.“Tell her dad you had fishing accident. Zis painkiller. You feel better one minute.”
Vova withdrew a syringe from his little first aid kit and, with incredible speed, plunged it into Xavier's upper arm, injecting the clear liquid. Xavier groaned loudly, but nodded, ready to do anything Vova proposed.
“Let me out here.” Vova pointed to a nearby intersection. “You go together. I have Vlad vatching you. I use knife.” Vova winked, melting into a smile. “But Vlad? He use pistol.”
Fuck. I would forever have nightmares of Vova.
With Vova gone, we finally pulled up to FBI headquarters, and as soon as we rounded the corner, I spotted my father waiting on the steps of the building. He walked up to the car beforeit even stopped, and I noticed it immediately—he looked tired, depleted, and like death.
He swung the door open and lunged for me before I could step out. The hug was awkward and long. I stood there in his embrace, not sure how to react to this sudden show of gentle parenting.
“Jade.” My father looked me over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Xavier just called me half an hour ago. Where did you come from? How did they free you?” He spat out questions in a panic, and the thought hit me so hard: he lookeddevastated.If it wasn’t for Gianna and Xavier, Alex and Andrei’s plan might have worked.
“I was so worried—these were the worst weeks of my life!” My father clasped his arms around me again, on the verge of tears.
A wave of guilt flooded me. He was myfather. He raised me by himself, and we had been through so much together. The death of my mother when I was only four. My first period at twelve, and the subsequent visit to the drugstore, where I almost imploded from embarrassment. My university graduation, when, instead of letting me celebrate with my friends, my father insisted we celebrate together at a restaurant of his choosing.
But then my father stepped back and stretched out his hand to Xavier, pullinghiminto a hug too. “You’re a godsend, Xavy. Thank you! Thank you for bringing her back.”
Xavy?!
Their hug, the familiarity, the ease with which they chatted—it all drew one picture: they’d been in contact and spending time together while I was gone.
“What happened to your hand?” my father asked, the concern in his voice jarring.
Xavier shrugged, waving his good hand. “Just a small incident. Fishing gone wrong.” He laughed easily, still scared of Vova, and I hid my smile, remembering his screams.
This felt surreal. Like I had just experienced a great misfortune: falling into the hands of a captor who took my freedom away. I sat in a small, cold room with harsh lighting, waiting for the FBI agents to come in and begin their debrief.
“Miss Moretti? Can I offer you a coffee or water?” An older agent peeked her head in the door.
I shook my head to say no.
“Are you sure? Maybe a tea?”
I knew the tactic—they wanted something in my hands so they could analyze my body language. Did I fidget? Was I calm? Did I drink after certain questions? There was a process, but, unfortunately for them, I paid attention when it mattered.
“No, thank you. I’m okay.”
She nodded curtly and disappeared again. I drummed my fingers on my thighs, wanting only one thing—to disappear from this room and run into Alex’s arms. The image of him on the marina, his hands in a symbol of heart, spread warmth through me. Fuck, I missed him.
“Miss Moretti. How are you?” Two agents walked in: a man in his forties, already with graying hair, and the same woman who had offered me coffee, slightly older.Seasonedagents. They grabbed their seats in front of me, their smiles sympathetic and utterly rehearsed.
“I’m okay.” I nodded. “H-how are you?”
