Page 100 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

She turns suddenly. “If he’s asleep when they arrive, don’t wake him for some security ritual.”

I look at the screen. “There will be no ritual.”

“That’s fine.”

“They will stand back,” I say, meeting her eyes. “He sees you first.”

Cara’s mouth tightens, and she looks as if she might cry or slap me.

“Good,” she says, folding her arms around herself.

I want to say, Go outside and see for yourself. I want to tell her I know nothing I do now can fix what I did before.

Ilya’s voice comes over the line. “Convoy has left the airfield. Twenty minutes out.”

Cara turns away from me. Everything inside me pulls tight. We wait near the receiving entrance. I stand several feet behind Cara because Elena told me to stand back.

The next twenty minutes move slowly. My mind starts collecting useless details. Snow from the night lies banked along the courtyard walls. Tire grooves cut through the slush, turning it gray. One guard shifts near the door. Another checks his radio and lowers it again. Cara doesn’t move.

These are the last empty moments before he gets here.

Estate road clears. Outer gate clears. Second checkpoint clears. Inner approach confirms. The black vehicles roll through the inner courtyard under a pale morning sky, engines low, windows dark, tires hissing over wet stone.

Kathryn gets out first.

She looks exhausted and angry enough to start swinging if anyone comes too close. One arm stays around Mikhail even after the vehicle stops.

She scans the courtyard, sees the guards, sees me, and pulls him closer.

He’s smaller than I thought and more serious than any child should be after a flight across the ocean. A travel blanket hangs around his shoulders. One hand holds a red toy car with chipped paint on the hood.

His hair is messy from sleep. His eyes move over the building, the guards, the vehicles, the doors, and every adult within sight. Then he sees Cara.

“Mama,” he says, small and sure.

Cara drops to her knees before he runs, and Mikhail goes into her arms with his whole body. He presses his face against her neck, then pulls back and touches her cheek, her hair, her coat, as if checking each part.

“I’m here,” Cara says, closing both arms around him. “I’m here, baby.”

Mikhail pats her shoulder. “Did you finish your work trip?” he asks, his voice muffled against her hair.

Cara lets out a sound that nearly ruins me. “Not yet.”

She lifts her face to Kathryn. “Kathryn,” she says, then stands with Mikhail in her arms.

Kathryn’s face crumples when she sees her. “You'd better have one hell of an explanation,” she says, her fingers tightening around the travel blanket.

Cara reaches her and takes her free hand. “I do. I swear I do.”

Kathryn looks past her at me. “Is he the reason armed men came to my apartment?”

I don’t move.

Cara squeezes Kathryn’s hand. “He’s the reason they got there before Patrick’s men.”

Kathryn’s eyes narrow. “That doesn’t make me like him.”

I incline my head. “It shouldn’t.”