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“Depends on how reckless you were.”
“You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“And that involved you going into a well-guarded building?”
“Yep. With a fake bomb strapped to my belly.”
I’m suddenlyveryawake. “Come again?”
She starts from the beginning and leaves nothing out. I don’t think I’ve ever been more riveted, anxious, appalled, and thrilled. Things could have gone terribly wrong at any given moment. It was reckless of her; downright stupid, even. But when I look at Simon between us, I can’t blame her for her actions. She’s right. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’d personally let the whole world burn if it meant saving the ones I love.
“Needless to say,” she mumbles, “it worked.”
“What about Dahlia?”
Natalya shrugs. “I’m sure the news has spread by now that Edvard has lost. She’ll either try and exact her revenge on you again, or more likely go into hiding.”
“I don’t think she’ll come after me again,” I reply. “She’s already failed. Not to mention given up the element of surprise. Without Levitsky’s help, she won’t have the resources to try and come at me a second time.”
“I’d be wary. Underestimating our enemies will only land us in hot water.”
I smirk. “You’re starting to sound like a top tier Bratva gangster, you know.”
“I learned from the best.” Her smile, unfortunately, is fleeting.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just… I’m glad you left Edvard alive.”
“He’s still of use to us,” I confess. “We need a lot of answers, and he has them. It’s better he’s still breathing.”
Natalya chews on the inside of her cheek, her eyebrows knitting together slightly. “Can I see him? Just for a few minutes. I need answers from him, too.”
It’s a simple request, one I wouldn’t dare deny her. After everything she’s been through, after everything heputher through, I’d say she’s more than a little entitled to a few minutes with the man.
“What my angel wants, my angel gets.”
Chapter 44
Natalya
Istand across from Edvard in the sterile white room, a thick sheet of glass separating the two of us. In the grand scheme of things, the Antonovs were incredibly generous to give him such a comfortable prison cell.
In another life, I would have questioned the ethics of it. The morality. But now I know this man is far too dangerous to risk placing in a run-of-the-mill prison operated by the state. Guards can be bribed, prisoners can be recruited into doing favors. Here, isolated on his own floor, surrounded by guards entirely loyal to the Antonovs… There’s no chance of escape or manipulation. I somehow feel safer with Edvard locked up in The Pit rather than letting the justice system take a crack at him.
Here, the Antonovsarejustice.
And far more effective.
Edvard’s been stripped of his clothes and given a simple white shirt and matching pants. Ugly white Crocs adorn his feet. He’s lost his expensive watches, his ostentatious chains. He no longer looks like the mob boss he tried so hard to become. Before me stands nothing more than a mortal man.
If I’m being perfectly honest, the Antonovs have spoiled him. They’ve given him a bed tucked into the corner of his cell, a shower area and toilet hidden behind a wall half his height, and he’s got plenty of space to walk around should he wish. In my humble opinion, it’s way more than he deserves.
There’s something eerie about the way he watches me with those cold black eyes. It’s hard to tell who’s more wary of whom. I sense defeat in the slump of his shoulders, anger in his balled-up fists. If it weren’t for the glass, I’m sure he would have throttled me with his bare hands. He’s been down here for a few days already. A morbid voice in the back of my head wonders how long it will take for him to snap.
“Have you come to gloat?” he asks, words dripping with venom.
I consider his question carefully.AmI here to gloat? No, there’s no need for me to rub it in. If there’s one thing my father taught me, it was that sore winners are worse than sore losers.
