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“I… Thank you.” The impact of his words hits me like a truck. It’s like he’s peeled back my skin and peered into my soul. It’s too much, too raw. A tear escapes, trickling down my cheek.
Before I can even think about wiping it away, Luka’s there, closing the distance between us in two long strides. He sets me back on the high stool before pulling away to look at me. There’s a new kind of intensity in his gaze, something that makes me feel seen, really seen, for the first time in my life.
He’s so close now, his breath warm against my cheek. I can see the flecks of green in his blue eyes, the barely noticeable scar just under his jaw. And then he leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s so gentle, so filled with understanding that it steals my breath away.
It’s a kiss that says more than words ever could. It’s not a promise of love, not an expression of desire. It’s something far more profound. It’s a promise of protection, of shared burdens, and silent strength. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel alone. I feel…protected.
No! You are a spy.
Nilo. Wren. Remember?
“No. Wait,” I choke out, breaking the kiss and pulling back. The taste of him still lingers on my lips, intoxicating and distracting. “I…uh,” I stammer, my mind spinning. “I should check on Yulia. And…and where will I be…uh…sleeping?”
Luka raises a brow, clearly surprised by my abrupt shift. But he doesn’t question it. “Of course,” he says, stepping back. His expression returns to its usual stoic calm. “Second floor, third door on your right.” He indicates the direction with a slight nod of his head.
Stumbling in my haste, I slip off the high stool, scrambling for my footing. Without a backward glance, I rush out of the kitchen, away from the warmth of his gaze, away from the tempting promise of his kiss.
Away from everything I cannot have.
Keep it together, Sophia.
I scan the room. It’s a modest space, void of personal touches. Sparse. Functional. An austere bed in the center, a sturdy oak wardrobe standing in one corner, and an unpretentious desk in the other. The bathroom, though small, is clean and well-lit.
Exhaustion gnaws at my bones, but my mind’s a whirlwind of thoughts.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
These feelings I have for Luka… I have to stop it.
Slowly, I shuffle toward the small white bathroom. The mirror confronts me with a reflection of a woman on the brink – eyes too wide, skin too pale. I turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face, hoping to douse the anxiety simmering beneath my skin.
Lugging my tired self to the bedside table, I rummage through my purse, retrieving the burner phone. The device is cold against my sweaty palms, a notification on the screen making my heart pound. I tap open the message app, a message from an unmarked number glaring back at me. The sight that greets me has my throat closing up.
It’s a picture of Nilo. My older brother, who was never the same after he succumbed to addiction as a teenager. His face now looks more gaunt than ever, his body wasted to a skeletal state. His eyes, once alight with a rebellious spark even in the throes of his addiction, now show only a chilling emptiness. Fear grips my heart and twists like a knife.
Oh, God. Nilo…
The second image loads, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. Wren. She’s strapped to a battered chair, her body rigid. But the fury in her gaze is blinding, an inferno of wrath and defiance that would make even the bravest soul shudder.
I clutch the phone tighter. The edges bite into my palm, grounding me in the horrifying reality.
“God, Wren…I’m so sorry.” The murmur barely leaves my lips, a ghost of an apology echoing in the room.
It’s my fault. I dragged her into this mess, into Nilo’s world of chaos and disaster. My fingers hover over the screen, tracing the outline of her face.
Beneath the horrific images lies the ultimatum. “Lost bird found the nest. Feed the bird the secrets of the nest.” My mission parameters – monitor Luka, record his actions, his words, and Yulia’s schedules.
Every beat of my heart rattles in my chest like a drum warning of impending war. The information I could feed them would ensnare Luka and Yulia into this sick, twisted game of chess.
Fuck!
Yet, I have no choice. The lives of Nilo and Wren rest in my hands!
“I have to do this. For them to live, I have to do this,” I whisper into the sterile air of the room.
Heaving a shuddering breath, I reply to the message, my fingers starting their treacherous dance on the keys. Detailing Luka’s day, his life, his night meeting with Dimitri and Erik… The digital transcript of betrayal begins to take form.
Every word I punch in is another knife in Luka’s back, but the alternative… I can’t afford to think about the alternative.
