Page 124 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

“Good,” she says, gripping the strap again. “Because I want answers from my own life. I want to know what Evan said. Who he talked to. What Patrick asked him. How many normal evenings in my kitchen turned into pieces of some trap I never saw.”

I look toward the nursery door.

Mikhail sleeps beyond it, safe for this minute, and even then, everything feels cracked. Kathryn still isn’t accusing me outright of dragging her into this, or stealing her life, or making her part of a plan she never agreed to join. I kept most of my secrets sealed away, and now I have to answer for them.

“I was trying to protect you,” I say.

Kathryn’s face changes, and the hurt shows through the anger. “You made me Mikhail’s emergency plan without telling me what emergency I was standing inside.”

My eyes burn.

She points at me with one trembling hand. “You kept Dmitri from me. The Blacklist. Mikhail’s father. Patrick’s reach. Half the danger. I understand why you panicked, Cara, but understanding doesn’t make it hurt less.”

“I didn’t trust anyone with the full truth,” I say, and the words scrape out. “Because the full truth made him easier to use.”

“Him?” Kathryn’s mouth trembles. “Do you mean Patrick?”

“No,” I whisper, looking toward the nursery door. “Mikhail.”

Kathryn’s face crumples for half a second before she pulls it back together. “And I was already being used.”

Silence drops between us. No guard steps in. The maids stay away. Nothing gives us a reason to look anywhere else.

Then a small voice comes from the nursery doorway.

“Is Auntie K angry?”

Both of us stop.

Mikhail stands there in pajama pants and a sweater, hair wild from sleep. His eyes move from my face to Kathryn’s bag.

Kathryn drops to a crouch so fast her knees must hate her. “Hey, buddy,” she says, opening her arms a little but not grabbing him. “I’m angry at grown-up things. I’m not mad at you.”

Mikhail looks at the bag. “Are you going back to my school?”

Kathryn’s face falls apart before she can catch it. I see the exact second leaving gets harder. Her hand reaches out, and Mikhail walks into her arms. Kathryn hugs him with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Not today,” she says into his hair. “I’m not going today.”

Mikhail leans back and studies her. “Tomorrow?”

Kathryn wipes her cheek with her sleeve. “We’ll talk about it. No sneaking. No disappearing. Promise.”

Mikhail nods like he has accepted a treaty, then cups her face with both hands. “You can have a kiss so you don’t feel bad.”

Kathryn makes a sound that breaks halfway through.

He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, then wipes the wet spot with his sleeve because he has no idea adults call that kind of thing precious.

“There,” he says. “All fixed.”

Kathryn looks over his head at me. A laugh breaks out of me, small and wrecked. For a moment, Kathryn stays crouched with her hands on her knees, breathing through whatever she almost did. When she stands, her anger has changed shape.

“I’m still going back,” she says, keeping her voice low.

I nod. “I know.”

“Not today,” Kathryn says, lifting one finger. “Not with a dramatic bag and a speech. When I leave, it’ll be planned, guarded, and useful.”