Page 38 of The Wrong Monster

She glances at me as if she hadn’t expected manners. “I won’t try to fight you.”

The qualification is careful. She’s conceding something, and it’s obvious from the tight set of her shoulders that she hates doing it.

“Good.” I hold out a hand, and we shake on it.

Her hand is smaller than mine, warm despite the guarded expression she wears.

An agreement.

Not peace, but business.

I push back my chair and straighten my cuffs.

“I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

She nods once, already reaching for the file I’ve brought with me. It’s preliminary, a list of Mikhail’s background and qualifications, his general responsibilities with Deep Waters.

As I reach the door, my phone vibrates, showing Timur’s name on the screen.

Did you find what you were looking for?

The message is almost painfully innocent. As though I’ve spent the last week searching for a misplaced file instead of kidnapping a woman and trapping her here.

Little brother. I know somewhere deep down that he doesn’t want to understand what I do, not really. He wants to stay blind to all this; is hoping for a fix before needing to know more.

I glance back over my shoulder.

Matilda hasn’t noticed. She’s already forgotten I’m in the room, one elbow resting on the table as she flips through the file. The breakfast sits untouched as she’s lost in work.

Exactly as I’d hoped.

No. Exactly as I’d expected.

I type a single word: Yes.

A second later, three dots appear, disappear, then appear again before Timur apparently decides against whatever follow-up question he’d been about to ask.

Probably for the best.

Because I honestly don’t know what I’d tell him.

Had I found an attorney?

Yes.

A hostage?

Certainly.

A solution?

I hope so.

I pocket my phone and step into the hallway. The heavy door seals shut behind me with a sound of finality.

Mikhail’s case no longer feels impossible. And yet...

As I walk back toward my wing of the house, I can’t shake the unsettling feeling that the most dangerous variable in this entire operation isn’t Yuri. It’s the defense attorney ignoring cold eggs behind a locked door.