Page 100 of Untamed Beast
I sink onto the couch in Yuri’s office, spinning my wedding ring between my fingers. I never sit down for our meetings but for this one, even I can’t predict my reaction. Throttle Yuri? Reach for a gun? Drive straight to Maksim and put an end to this?
The unfortunate certainty lodges in my stomach that any option involving Natalia’s death is off the table. Her love was probably false, too, but fuck if I didn’t believe that lie with my whole being. If she thinks betrayal is enough to get rid of me, she’s wrong. I might lose all respect for her, might never trust another word that comes out of her mouth, but there’s nogetting away from the fact that her poison has leached into my blood until I need it to breathe.
I recline on the couch in what I hope is a relaxed posture, hoping to keep this conversation at an arms-length. The look on Yuri’s face tells me he’s not convinced. He looks wary, and rightly-fucking-so.
It’s a delicate situation for him. Our solution for spies and traitors has always been simple: torture for information, remove whatever limbs and body parts aren’t strictly necessary for speech, then dispose of the limbless, bloody evidence with the help of a fishing boat headed to the high seas. No concerns about identification, because those bodies will never see the light of day again.
Suggesting to your business partner that their wife might need to be neutralized is not an easy feat. I get why Yuri’s taking his time, but it’s irritating to me right now. The nervous tension in the room is making my stomach turn.
“You think it was her?”
I toss the wedding ring in the air and catch it again. Once, twice, three times, and still Yuri’s thinking over his answer. I let out an exasperated groan.
“My wife? Do you think she’s a traitor?” My tone must be harsh because the question makes him flinch.
His throat bobs and his jaw tenses. I can see the inner battle going on. He doesn’t want to believe it. I can relate. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger too. We’ve been blinded by her innocent princess act.
“When we were making plans around the wedding, Maksim had no clue what we were up to,” he begins slowly.
I nod my head thoughtfully, as if he’s telling me new information.
“Nothing’s changed in our processes, excepther.”
Way to state the obvious.
His voice is gruff, matter of fact, but he’s not making the conclusion I need to hear. I want confirmation that I’m not being paranoid. That this is the only reasonable explanation. Because nothing about my mind is capable of rational thought when it comes to Natalia.
“You’ve checked all other avenues.”
He nods. “New employees interrogated. Cyber experts say everything’s airtight. Even bribed some of Maksim’s men.”
“And?”
He blows out a breath. “Said it would cost them more than their lives to tell us where the information was coming from.”
I let that sink in, taking one shallow breath. A comment like that is an answer just as much as a confession would be. It’s someone high-stakes. Someone like the boss’s daughter. Someone whose death isn’t just gonna be a matter for you, but a death warrant for your whole family. If it was a mole at the lower-levels, our cash would have flushed out the name right away.
I raise my eyebrows expectantly. I need him to say it.
“Spit it out, Yuri. In your professional opinion as a security expert, was it her?”
He nods, giving me an apologetic grimace. “Nothing else makes sense.”
I ignore the fact that it feels like a bolt has thudded into my chest and frozen my heartbeats.That’s not pertinent.What I need to focus on is where the information leak is and how to make it stop.
I hadn’t flagged the first breach with Yuri. I’d thought I could handle it.
Handle her.
Because I hadn’t thought Natalia was such a good actress.
I’m in way too fucking deep, with her.
I guess she has me wrapped around her little finger enough that I didn’t even double-check if she really had handed over all her devices.
I should have fucking seen it coming. Once a liar, always a liar. Forgiveness is for the fucking weak. That’s been drilled into me for a long time.
Ever since I saw my mother take my father back, time and time again, until he finally tried to kill her. He held our sharpest kitchen knife to her throat while he slammed her face against the counter. To this day, I don’t remember wresting the kitchen knife from his hands, taking the blow across the left side of my face, before I turned the knife on him. All I know is that it happened, because when the police arrived I was covered in blood.
