Page 69 of Vicious Betrayal

"I don't need pliers to get the truth out of someone," I tell her quietly, every word deliberate. "Pain makes people lie. Pain makes people say whatever they think will make the hurting stop. But the right questions, asked in the right order... that's how you find out the truth. Pain is usually just a punishment for fucking up badly enough to be there in the first place."

I let go of her chin, turn to the island, and unzip her tote bag. I dump the contents out onto the counter—a bottle of sunscreen, a floral scarf, a lip balm, a half-empty pack of mints, and her phone.

I pick up the phone. It's locked. "You didn't take cash out of my wallet," I say, tapping the dark screen against my palm as I turn back to her. "You didn't ask to go home to Chicago. You wanted to meet a federal agent in Greece the day after Declan happened to email me some sensitive files."

Oksana's breath hitches. Her gaze darts to the phone, then back to my chest.

"You waited until I went down the hill to buy your soda," I continue, watching the quick flutter of her eyelids, the sudden swallow. "You had just enough time to get into my laptop. And you must have figured out the password. The night we met, right?"

Her eyes widen. A ragged sob rips out of her chest, and she presses both hands over her mouth, her whole body folding inward as if she's trying to disappear into the floorboards.

"You must have gotten photos of the documents. That's what the agent wanted, right? Something to tie Declan's other work to his legitimate businesses."

"Cormac, please⁠—"

"Why?" My voice rises. "Why would you do this? What the fuck did you care about shipping containers in Chicago while you were lying in my bed?"

She shakes her head wildly, tears pouring down her cheeks, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. "I can't. I can't tell you. If I tell you, they'll⁠—"

My jaw tightens. "What is going on here, Oksana? Tell me, and maybe I can help you. Explain, and maybe I'll feel differently. But right now, all I see is a liar who honeytrapped me into a marriage in order to ruin my goddamn life."

She doesn't deny it. She doesn't claim she was innocent. She just stands there crying, tight-lipped, refusing to say another word.

I've never had my heart broken before. But God, I feel it now. From the very first night she sat down next to me at the bar, looking at me with those big, teasing eyes, she was a weapon designed to take me out.

I stand there looking at her for a long time.

My heart is beating in my ears. I can feel the weight of my gun against my back, the cold metal of the wedding band on my left hand, as all the plans I've made for our future come crumbling down around me. Everything seems amplified.

"Come with me," I say quietly.

She shrinks back. "Where?"

"Upstairs."

"Cormac—"

"Upstairs, Oksana. Don't make me carry you."

I take her gently by the elbow and lead her out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and up the wide wooden staircase. She moves slowly, her feet dragging on the steps, her head bowed.

At the top of the landing, I open the door to the corner bedroom. It's clean, with a queen bed with fresh white linens, a bedside table with a lamp, a dresser and small bookcase, and two heavy windows overlooking the back woods, both reinforced with exterior security bars. She's not getting out of here.

I guide her inside. "There are blankets in the wardrobe," I tell her, keeping my voice flat, refusing to look at the tears soaking the front of her dress. "I'll bring you water."

She turns to face me, standing in the middle of the bare wood floor, looking so small and fragile that for one agonizing second, every instinct in my body screams at me to cross the room, pull her against my chest, and tell her that we'll fix it. That I'll burn the whole fucking city to the ground before I let anyone touch her or the baby.

She sold you out.

The reality hits me all over again, like ice water, freezing the impulse in my throat.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whispers, her blue eyes searching mine.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "You're staying in this room until I figure it out."

I step back out onto the landing, pull the heavy door shut between us, and turn the key in the lock.

The metallic click sounds like the final hammer blow on a coffin.