Page 81 of Assassin: Part 1

“You’re the one living in a lie, Aurora,” Tatiana seethes, kicking Rori in the gut, and she staggers back. The snarl Rori lets out reminds me of Freya’s when she’s making her point, before she delivers a roundhouse kick to Tatiana’s face, sending her flying.

I want to rush over and stop this. I have too many questions to allow her to get hurt.

Of course my woman can’t do anything normally. Instead of screaming in pain, she laughs, rolls, and takes Rori out at the legs.

Wait, my woman? What the hell is that?

She can’t be mine. She’s a fucking assassin. Dangerous. Hell, she’s more likely to kill me in my sleep and walk away whistling before she blows the damn place up.

If she was going to kill me, actually kill me, she’s had so many chances, and she’s never taken them. She’s fucked me, but that’s never seemed calculated. That was pure lust. You can’t fake something like that. Even an amazing actress can’t make the sounds she does when she comes. Or look at me that way. That kind of desire can’t be faked.

This entire thing is a giant mindfuck.

Yet flattering.

“You’re not my sister, Tatiana.”

Wait, what? I stare at Rori, eyes wide. Sister? These two are definitely not sisters.

“According to the fake birth certificate Pasha created the moment you married Mishka, he didn’t feel that way.” Tatiana shrugs, blood dripping from her nose, bruised cheek swelling.

Damn, the two of them really weren’t pulling any punches.

“But no, we were never sisters. Actually, I hated you for a long time,” Tatiana finishes.

The depth of this woman continues to shock me. Every word uttered helps me see more and more beneath the mask she wears around everyone else. Even in this moment, she’s only allowing what she wants to be shown, but I know some of her tells now.

With a cool stare, eyes icy and direct, she says, “I’ve been working to take down your father while you lived your life. While you forgot all about what you yearned to do. You left your actual siblings to suffer under his hands.”

Direct hit with the way Rori flinches and pales.

At Rori’s reaction, a flash of pain, or possibly guilt, shines in her eyes. There’s more there. Resentment? Sure, but something else. Something I want to pull out of her. Try to understand.

The world this woman has been in, the darkness she’s wallowed in, it’s touched almost every part of her, but not completely. It hasn’t swallowed her whole; otherwise, this wouldn’t be happening.

I want to grab her, pull her into me, and hug her. Promise her everything will be all right.

I’m liable to lose a limb, but it doesn’t stop the need. Understanding her is going to be a hell of a thing, but I want to.

Zakhar and Oleg are probably going to want to have me committed, and on a rational level, I don’t blame them.

“Until I saw the day you rescued that baby from the fucker she was sold to.” Rori’s head jerks as she stares at Tatiana, eyes widening, and I cock my head, trying to figure out where the hell she’s going with this.

“Oh, yes, I saw that. You think I didn’t keep track of you? I had just come back from killing someone on your father’s hit list, and I was so angry you were getting to live your life while I dealt with the filth. I tracked you down that night, and it wasn’t long before I realized what you were doing. You found him, you got the baby, and you killed him just the way he deserved. Actually, it really inspired me.” A cold smile pulls at her lips, a brightness in her eyes that clenches my gut. “You could actually call it the day I realized my skills weren’t just useful for hire, but for some good. The dick stuffed down his throat was a very nice touch; I hope you don’t mind that I’ve copied it.”

I jolt.

What she did to that pig who took Mila. That’s exactly what she did. We found his body; I saw the pictures.

Has that been what she’s been doing all this time? But that doesn’t make sense if she’s been doing work as the Chameleon. The Chameleon has been responsible for some of the highest target assassinations in the world. That takes time, precision, skill. Patience. She wouldn’t have time to kill a bunch of lowlifes. Would she?

That doesn’t explain Mila’s attacker. The Bratva Butcher wouldn’t have ordered her to kill the very man they sold Mila to. Would he? Unless he was trying to tie up loose ends.

Mila has a smirk on her face, but then she clenches her jaw, pain in her eyes. She doesn’t even fight as Zakhar hauls her back to him, holding her close. The familiar burn in my stomach stirs. She was a fucking child. I turn my gaze to where the Butcher is passed out on the floor.

I can’t wait to kill him. I’m going to make him beg for mercy before I finish him. He will pay for every fucking second of terror she felt.

“And then you met Ilya and, what, you just decided to stop?” Rori’s question draws me back in.