Page 136 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

He leans back against the desk. “If you put Cara away, Patrick won’t bite.”

“Good,” I say.

Maksim’s mouth hardens. “No. Then Patrick chooses the next target himself.”

“Patrick isn’t the prize,” Maksim says, gentler now. “He’s the part we pull until Morozov moves.”

I look toward the window, where winter presses against the glass.

“Morozov is counting on you to act like a father before you think like a strategist,” Maksim says, and his voice loses the edge. “I know why that is hard.”

I look back at him. For once, Maksim doesn’t use command to cover what he means.

“Every time Morozov touches your life, I tell you to hold back,” he says, rolling the tumbler between his fingers. “Your parents, the fire, Cara, now the boy. I know what that costs.”

I don’t want to hear it.

Maksim steps closer. “If you grab too soon, you burn the channel. If you lose control in the field, Morozov proves your family can move Volkov decisions. That’s exactly what he wants.”

“He touched my son,” I say, and my voice comes out calm.

Maksim nods. “He did. So make him commit a mistake big enough to bury him.”

I want to cancel the plan. My body wants it with a force that almost feels clean. Strip Mikhail’s name from every file. Put Cara upstairs behind ten guarded doors. Pull Patrick out of whatever hole he’s using tonight.

Leave Morozov with ash in his mouth.

I stand in Maksim’s study instead, and I swallow every answer that would make me easy to steer.

Maksim nods again, as if he sees the choice happen. “Go.”

Back in the annex, Cara looks at me. She knows. I tilt my head toward the corridor, and Cara follows.

The hall outside is empty except for one guard at the far turn. I stop near a tall window, and she stops close enough for her sleeve to brush my coat.

“I dislike this plan,” I say.

Cara lets out a slow breath. “I know.”

“I won’t put you away to make myself feel safer,” I say, forcing the words out. “But if the bait wakes anything, we move together. No heroics. No private sacrifice.”

Her lips part, and she looks at my mouth.

I close the space between us. “You don’t decide alone because you’re scared.”

“I promise,” she says, touching my sleeve.

I take her hand. Her fingers are cold, and mine close around them before I make the touch gentler.

“Promises before danger are the easy ones,” I say, rubbing my thumb once over her knuckles.

Cara steps closer. “Then remind me when it gets hard.”

My breath catches in my chest. I lower my head until my mouth is near her ear, close enough to feel her shiver. “When it gets hard, you look at me before you move.”

Cara’s hand tightens around mine, and her head almost rests against my chest. “And you?” she whispers.

I pull back enough to meet her eyes. “I do the same.”