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“The next time I see him, I’ll give him a lot more than that,” Jack quipped before clamping her mouth shut and shooting Kate an apologetic look.
Bitterness and rage emanated from Damien’s entire being as he stared, unblinking, into the camera.
“Citizens of the world,” he began in Russian-accented English, his jaw unclenching just enough for him to play the part, “I stand before you today as the newly appointed vice president of the Russian Federation. I, along with my father, am pleased to report that Russia has emerged victorious in our conflict with Ireland, and the evacuation phase of this war is now over.”
“Fuck me.” Jack finally sat, taking the chair next to her wife.
“From this moment on, anyone remaining on the island formerly known as Ireland must pledge allegiance to President Abramov and the Russian Federation. Failure to do so will be considered an act of treason. Wearing or displaying Irish iconography of any kind, including flags, emblems, or symbols, will be considered an act of treason. And the use of the Irish language, spoken or written, will also be considered an act of treason.”
“What about wipin’ me arse with the Russian flag? How’s yer da feel about that?” Jack spat.
“To help expedite the transition of power, bonfires will be held in every occupied city on the island tonight. Attendance is mandatory. If you do not live in an occupied city, you must travel to one. All Irish regalia must be burned at this time, and all citizens will be required to surrender their passports and driver’s licenses to the authorities on-site.”
“Oh God,” Kate whispered through her fingertips. “Is this really happening?”
“In the coming weeks, new passports and identification cards will be issued to reflect your new Russian citizenship and Russian surname.”
“New names! Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Jack shoved the table with both hands, causing the tablet to fall flat on its back.
“Failure to attend a burning event or submit your identification will also be considered an act of treason, resulting in immediate detainment and sentencing.
“While this transition might be difficult for some to accept, President Abramov would like to remind you all that it was Ireland’s taoiseach, Séamus Rooney, who depleted your miliary in his ill-advised war with Britain, alienated you from your allies, and left the door open for this invasion to occur. Now that it’s over, my father would like for all of you to take pride in your new Russian citizenship … or suffer the consequences.”
Jack tapped the screen, pausing the broadcast.
“He’s a fuckin’ traitor!” she cried, thrusting her hand in the direction of Damien’s frozen, vengeful glare.
“He is no such thing!” Kate snapped back in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. “Ya heard what Clover said … he surrendered to try to get close to Alexi. He’s doin’ this for us. Including you, ya stubborn cunt!”
“For us? Your boy crawled back to dear old da and got a big fat fuckin’ promotion—that’s what he did. Look at him!” She gestured toward the screen again. “That suit costs more than our mortgage!”
Kate didn’t look at him. She was too focused on the words spewing out of Jack’s fear-mongering mouth, but I looked. And what I saw had me snatching the tablet off the table.
“Damien saved yer life, right here in this bleedin’ room,” Kate shouted. “He saved all our lives. We have to help him.”
Zooming in with two fingers, I studied the garden wall behind Damien.
“What are we s’posed to do, love?” Jack’s tone softened. “Book a flight to Moscow and abduct the VP of Russia? We don’t even know where they keep the VP. Nobody does. They’ve never fuckin’ had one before!”
Setting the tablet down with shaking hands, I glanced up at Jack and Kate and said the two sweetest words in the English language.
“I do.”
CHAPTER 44
DAMIEN
Lift … flip … slide … aaaaand …
Click.
The repetitive sounds of a leather cuff being unbuckled and re-buckled was the only thing keeping me sane. With nothing to do and no other source of entertainment, I’d spent my hours in isolation plotting my escape. I’d come up with at least four different options, but all of them began with me being able to free myself from my restraints, which I could now do with my eyes closed, thanks to a lot of free time and a metal rod I’d discreetly removed from the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom.
Not that I had any plans to escape. I just needed to know that I could. It made me feel less like a prisoner and more like an undercover assassin biding my time.
Which was exactly what I needed to be.
Press … latch … slide … and …
