Six Hours Earlier
The agents seated me at a table in a room that, at first glance, looked cozy. One of them went to get coffee, while the other settled across from me, opened a folder, and began carefully reviewing something.
A few minutes later, the first returned, and they finally began.
"Where were you on December tenth of last year?" Agent Ron began.
"I went to inspect a building that Mr. Theron Vescari was planning to buy for his fiancée, Amy Chon," I replied dryly.
"What time did you go there?"
The questions came from him steadily and without emotion. It seemed as though they were stalling for time, but for what?
And then I understood: he truly had nothing. Then why was I here?
"I can't tell you the exact time, but I'm certain I was there for no more than thirty minutes," I answered just as calmly.
The room fell silent again. The agent made a note in his papers as though he had heard something important. Even though we both knew I hadn't said anything important yet.
"We were also able to establish that cameras near that building captured your stepfather. Do you know anything about that?"
The question sounded just as dry, but the agent's eyes gave him away completely. He was waiting for a reaction. Surprise. Fear. Anything at all.
But inside, there was silence.
I had far more serious problems than my ugly stepfather.
"No," I answered shortly.
Silence settled over the room.
One minute.
A second.
The agents seemed to be deciding what to ask next. Or simply stalling, hoping I would be the first to become nervous.
"We also noticed Mr. Vecs..."
"Why all this farce?" I interrupted.
He froze mid-sentence and blinked in surprise.
After all our previous meetings, they should have understood that intimidation did not work on me. Right now, they looked like people clutching at every thread they could find in the hope of pulling out anything at all.
"He could have moved to New York permanently, and I wouldn't have cared. I didn't call him or contact him. Nor did he contact me."
Ron made a note in the folder.
"Don't you think that's a little too convenient a coincidence? For you. And for Theron."
"You said it yourself—a coincidence. An unpleasant accident that has nothing to do with us."
I took a sip of coffee. Surprisingly, it was drinkable.
"And then all information about him and his whereabouts simply disappears. A very convenient coincidence for you," Ron's voice finally revealed irritation.
That was it. His patience had run out.
"That's a very weak argument, and you know it. If that's all, I have nothing more to say."
I stood up.
No one stopped me.
I reached the door and had already taken hold of the handle when I paused.
"But if you're genuinely interested in discussing something worthwhile, we can talk off the record."
I didn't turn around.
I simply waited.
Movement immediately began behind me. Chairs scraped so sharply it sounded as though both agents had jumped to their feet at the same time.
"Follow me," Ron ordered at once.
He passed by me, lightly brushing my shoulder, and left the room.
This time we headed to his office alone, without the second agent.
Ron entered first, closed the door, then lowered the office blinds over the glass partitions that separated the office from the main floor. Only after that did he gesture toward the chair opposite his desk.
He sat down in his own chair and laced his fingers together.
"I'm listening," he said calmly.
But now, for the first time, there was genuine interest in his gaze.
"I want to make a deal with you."
Not a single muscle in his face moved.
"I'm listening," the agent repeated.
"I—or rather, we—will help you solve the murders of your agents inside the Vescari companies. And you will close my stepfather's case."
I said it confidently, without a single hesitation.
Surprise flickered in Ron's eyes, but he immediately tried to hide it. Not very successfully.
"What are you talking about?" he said, far too theatrically.
I smirked.
"You should work on your acting skills."
His gaze grew heavier.
"We know that at least eight FBI agents were operating inside the network. And another seven women whom you hired to gather information."
For several seconds, he remained silent.
For a long time, I couldn't understand what the difference was. Then it finally dawned on me. Infiltrating a single organization with that many agents was practically impossible. Which meant the others were simply recruited women.
Now many things began to fall into place.
Their nervousness.
Their mistakes.
Their unnatural reactions.
Corruption.
"Almost everyone in that building was simply a recruited informant. Everyone except one. She was your agent."
I paused.
"And that's an entirely different story. The murder of a federal agent is a crime that nobody likes to leave unsolved."
Ron leaned back in his chair.
This time, he didn't even try to look surprised.
"How long ago did you figure that out?" he asked with a smirk. "You do realize that's practically a confession?"
I lifted the corner of my lips slightly.
"A confession to what?"
His smile became less certain.
"To the fact that we were able to identify your undercover operation? Gather information on your people? Trace connections?"
I shrugged.
"That's not a crime."
The smile disappeared from his face completely.
Much better.
"Theron has nothing to do with their deaths," I continued calmly. "But we know who may be involved. More than that, we have information not only about the recruited girls but also about a third party that may be connected to what's happening."
The office grew noticeably quieter.
"You understand that withholding information of that kind can also have consequences?" Ron remarked. "If I officially request that data, you will be required to provide it."
"The problem is that, right now, they're only words."
I looked him directly in the eyes.
"And Theron bears no responsibility for my words. I can sit here and say absolutely anything, can't I?"
This time, the smirk that appeared was slightly more venomous.
"Theron doesn't know about this yet. But without him, you won't catch the person you're looking for."
I paused, allowing the words to settle between us.
"So the decision is yours, Agent Ron. Either you close my stepfather's case and get the killer of your people. Or you continue chasing ghosts and pretending you're in control of the situation."
I calmly folded my hands in my lap. Now it was his move. And we both understood that.
"Why do you want your stepfather's case closed?" he asked. "Do you have something to hide? Or something to fear?"
Every word was another attempt to push me toward a mistake.
Toward a confession.
Toward emotion.
Toward anything.
I slowly rose from the chair.
Ron frowned as he watched me.
Then I began taking off my jacket, my hoodie, and my T-shirt.
He immediately jumped to his feet.
"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"
For the first time during the entire conversation, something resembling confusion appeared in his voice.
Ignoring him, I stood there bare above the waist, wearing only my bra. That was enough. The shock in his eyes was genuine.
I turned my back to him and gathered my hair up.
At the back of my head, beneath the thick strands, patches of damaged skin were clearly visible where hair no longer grew.
For several seconds, absolute silence filled the office.
"What is that?" Ron finally asked quietly.
I smiled without a trace of amusement.
"My stepfather's work of art."
Turning back toward him, I met his gaze.
"I have nothing left to fear. Especially now that he's dead."
I spoke calmly, almost indifferently. As though we were discussing the weather. As though this body belonged to someone else.
"But he's not the kind of person whose death is worth grieving. And you know that just as well as I do. He was a shitty human being. Not only to me."
Ron slowly sat back down in his chair. This time without his usual confidence.
"A crime remains a crime," he said after a pause.
"I understand."
I began dressing again calmly.
"But this is my deal. I will help you find those responsible. I will help you get a confession. And you will end the investigation." I pulled my clothes back on. "The choice is yours."
There was nothing more to say. I turned toward the door, already running through backup plans in my head. Even the worst one.
Telling Theron everything. I didn't like the idea. There were too many risks.
If SHE found out that Theron had decided to interfere, everything could collapse before we managed to make our next move. And the worst part was that I still didn't know who else was playing on her side.
"What exactly will you be able to provide us with if I agree?"
Finally.
The agent stopped pretending this was just a conversation.
"Message records. Transfers. Meeting dates. Contacts. And much more."
He watched me carefully, clearly weighing every advantage and disadvantage.
"You managed to find all of that?" Genuine surprise entered his voice for the first time. "Their phones, computers, cloud storage... everything was wiped clean."
"Yes."
I adjusted my clothes and absentmindedly felt Theron's tie beneath my fingers inside my pocket.
"As I already said, we had been watching them for quite a long time."
Ron tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the desk.
"You said 'confession.'"
I raised my eyes.
"We can discuss the details after the agreement is signed."
This time, I had no intention of giving ground.
He let out an annoyed breath.
"I'll need time to make a decision."
"You don't have time." My fingers tightened around the fabric of the tie. "Either now, or never."
Ron frowned.
"You understand that I don't approve deals of this level."
"Then call whoever does."
I glanced at the clock.
"Time is running. I can't sit here forever."
It was dangerous. I was almost giving myself away. Almost showing just how bad things were. But there was no choice left.
For several seconds, he looked at me in silence. Far too carefully.
"Give me half an hour," he finally said.
I didn't answer. Ron stood up and immediately left the office. A minute later, another agent escorted me to a waiting room. This time, the room was far less inviting. Cold walls. A hard chair. The hum of an air conditioner overhead.
I sat down and tightened my grip on Theron's tie once again.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
Trying not to look at my phone. Not to check my messages. Not to think about the fact that I had far less time left than I had just admitted to Agent Ron.
***
"Don't you have anything you want to tell me?"
Ostin's calm voice was far more unsettling than a shout. A pistol rested on his knee, pointed in my direction. I had always known he was part of this world.
But right now, he frightened me far more than Theron himself.
"It's not what it looks like," I said quickly, throwing my jacket onto a chair. "I—"
"You went behind Theron's back." He cut me off before I could finish. "And look where that got us."
Heavy silence settled over the room.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous today was?" he continued. "Do you have any idea that he could have died?"
I swallowed.
The thought of Theron's death had never left me since the beginning of this nightmare. It sat somewhere beneath my ribs and slowly devoured me from the inside. But beside it was another thought.
About Derek.
And together they were tearing me apart. It felt as though I had fallen into hell long ago and was now simply wandering through its circles.
"Theron isn't just Amy and her insane antics," Ostin's voice grew harsher. "He's the man holding entire corporations together. Thousands of employees. An enormous number of people depend on his decisions every day. The clan..."
He rose abruptly.
"And you exposed him to that kind of risk." Every word struck deep. "Do you even understand what will happen if he—"
Ostin cut himself off mid-sentence.
Then he exploded.
In a few strides he was beside me, grabbed my arm, and jerked me toward him.
"Do you have any idea what his life is worth?!"
I flinched.
Not from pain.
From the fact that I had no answer.
I didn't understand.
All this time, I had been too confident. Too certain of my own judgment. Too accustomed to believing I could handle everything on my own. I had never valued my own life very highly.
But his...
Something inside me cracked.
I truly had been a complete fool. I thought I could solve everything by myself. Thought I was in control of the situation. Instead, I had nearly sent the man I loved to his grave.
"This time it was only broken ribs. What happens next?" Ostin's voice sounded increasingly desperate. "He'll throw himself into danger to save you again, and then what?"
He sharply pointed the pistol toward the bedroom.
"Go."
I looked at him in disbelief.
"Go in there. That's an order."
This time the command sounded harsher. And for some reason, it was only now that Ostin truly seemed frightening. A chill ran down my spine. I slowly headed toward the bedroom, trying to understand what was happening. What he was planning.
When I reached the door, I carefully pushed it open.
And froze.
Theron was lying on my bed. Beneath a blanket, pale and motionless. An IV dripped quietly beside him. Tears rose to my eyes before I even realized it.
"If you don't value your own life, that's your choice," Ostin's voice came from behind me. "But don't you dare gamble with his."
I didn't turn around.
"This is your final warning." Too quiet. Too calm. That only made the words sound even more terrifying.
A second later, the door closed behind me, leaving us alone.
I walked to the bed and carefully climbed onto the other side. Theron was asleep. At least, I thought he was. For several seconds, I simply sat there and looked at him. At his dark eyelashes. His calm, beautiful face. At the man who had nearly died because of me.
I reached toward him.
And immediately pulled my hand back.
I remembered too well how recently he had pushed me away. I remembered the emptiness in his eyes all too well. But despite everything, he was here.
I carefully took his hand in both of mine and pressed my forehead against it. And something inside me finally broke. The tears that, it seemed to me, had long forgotten how to exist found their way out once more.
One drop.
A second.
Then dozens at once.
I pressed my lips to the back of his hand.
And broke down sobbing. Holding his hand against my cheek, I felt for his pulse with my fingertips.
Steady.
Alive.
Real.
"One more time." The low voice sounded so unexpectedly that I flinched.
I jerked my head up. Theron was still lying there with his eyes closed.
Had I imagined it?
"Kiss me again." This time the voice was clearer.
The same roughness.
The same deep tone.
I brought his hand to my lips again. And kissed it.
The tears continued to run down my cheeks. I didn't even try to stop them. Because for the first time during all this time, I didn't care how weak I looked.
The only thing that mattered was that he was breathing.