Page 40 of Then We Shatter

Killian

Ihold onto my wig as I crane my neck to the top of the high-rise building in front of me. The smoked glass glints gold in the rising autumn sun and I shudder.

“Killian! What’s wrong?” Malachy practically shouts down the line when my call connects, his voice scratched with sleep.

“Nothing.” Everything.

“Where are you?”

“Chicago.” Hell.

The mattress creaks as my brother adjusts his position. He’s getting ready to jump out of bed. Nothing I’ve said so far has put him at ease. “Has something happened?”

“No.” Not yet. “It’s all good.”

He blows out a breath. “So, you woke me up to tell me nothing?” he asks suspiciously.

“People do call each other just for a chat, you know?” Jesus, why is everyone so suspicious when I get in touch?

It’s been a few days since my meeting with Ash and I’ve already told Dad he expects the engagement to be broken off within weeks. I’d mentioned how Duke’s been complaining about Katarina refusing to set a date, I just didn’t clarify that the date in question is for her escape plan. Dad thinks she’s delaying because she’s infatuated with me, and he’s not wrong. Katarina Barkov is obsessed with me. She has to be. Why else would she invite me to take the biggest risk of my life and sneak into her apartment?

“What’s going on, Killian?” Malachy asks, not buying my reassurances.

“Jesus Christ, nothing,” I reply. I regret calling him now. “I was just thinking how we’ve been at each other’s throats lately and we should make the effort. I wanted you to know… you know…” I work my jaw but the words won’t come. I want him to know I’m proud of him, and that I love him. “You’re alright, Mal.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. And then… “Is this code? Has someone got a gun to your head?”

“No! I’m just trying to be nice. And the correct response is, you’re OK too, Killian.”

“Only when you’re not driving me fucking nuts,” Malachy fumes. There’s a thud as he drops back down onto his mattress. “You’re my big brother, Killian. It goes without saying that I look up to you, but–”

“No, buts,” I interrupt. “Glad we could have this talk, but I’ll be getting on now.”

“Killian, you can’t fu–”

I cut the call. We can argue later. I just needed to clear the air. For all I know, I could get knocked down crossing this street. Anything could happen and I’d hate for my brother to be left with regrets about the last time we spoke. It wasn’t quite a hallmark moment, but good enough.

Following the instructions Katarina gave me, I send a text to let her know I’m here. She replies immediately and tells me to wait for her to confirm it’s safe to enter her building. That confirmation comes through less than a minute later.

The high-security entrance doors open without me having to press a button and I enter a foyer that reeks of privilege. It’s all black gloss and gold and the concierge has epaulettes on the shoulders of his uniform. I give him a confident nod and he doesn’t challenge me as I head for the penthouse elevator.

As I’m carried upwards to meet my fate, I stare at my reflection in the smoked glass mirrors. I know exactly what Malachy would say if he knew what I was doing. I’ve walked into plenty of traps before, but never one with so many red flags. I’m ignoring every one. Katarina promised she’d disable all the security, and so far that promise is holding up. I trust her.

I haven’t seen Katarina in person since our little falling out and our only communication has been via text. She says her phone has been adapted to send and receive messages that circumvent the Bratva’s surveillance, but no software is foolproof. What if our messages have been intercepted? What if the invitation isn’t from Katarina at all? I should have asked her something only she would know, like the name of my wig.

Too late now. I draw my Glock from beneath my suit jacket as the elevator stops. When the doors open onto a small, marble-clad foyer, no one’s waiting to ambush me. I step towards Katarina’s closed apartment door. The control panel next to it has an intercom, but if the electronics are disabled the door won’t be locked. I push it open, keeping my weapon raised.

Slowly, the door swings wider to reveal the first glimpse of the apartment’s shiny interior. Then wider still. Until…

“Hello, Shorty.”

Katarina stands at the far end of the corridor in a red silk robe and her killer heels. In one blink, she’s only wearing heels. The grip on my gun loosens.

“Close the door. It’s drafty in here.”

It could explain why her nipples are hardened peaks but I doubt it.

Stepping inside, I kick the door shut with my boot, then take a moment to absorb every inch of her body. I’ve seen and touched every part of Katarina, but in our tiny little oasis, I’ve never been able to admire her naked body from a distance.