Page 43 of Hunt Me, Daddy

I said nothing.

Nikolai’s amusement faded. Aleksei looked into his glass. Sergei watched me the way he watched everything, without blinking, as if silence itself could be interrogated. I did not meet his eyes this time and Maxim noticed.

“You are handling it, I assume,” he said.

“I am.”

“You said that before.”

“It remains true.”

“And if it stops being true?”

“It won’t.”

Nikolai muttered, “That kind of confidence always comes right before someone gets shot at.”

“It is Boston,” Aleksei said. “Someone is always getting shot at.”

“I meant Ivan,” Maxim clarified.

“Ah. Then yes. Probably,” Aleksei replied flatly.

I gave them both a look. “Your concern is overwhelming.”

Nikolai raised his glass. “To your survival. May it be brief enough to be interesting and long enough to be useful.”

“Touching.”

Maxim ignored them. “You will not let pride blind you.”

“No.”

“You will not let curiosity turn into liability.”

“No,” I said again.

Maxim studied me for another long moment. “Mikhail is not careless. If his people are moving again, there is purpose behind it.”

“I’m aware.”

“And if you are withholding information because you believe you can control every piece alone, you are mistaken.”

“I’m aware of that too.”

“Do you?”

That question sat heavier than the others.

I thought of Kit standing at her kitchen window, looking into the dark while I held still on the fire escape. I thought of her sitting on the couch for two hours without opening her laptop because my presence had unsettled the one constant in her life. I thought of Orlov analysts working toward finding her name andMikhail’s shadow stretching across a city that should have been mine to keep away from her.

Then I thought of the pen on my desk.

No.

It wasn’t on my desk.

It was in my jacket again, where I had put it before leaving for the Iron Wolf.