4. Delfino
4
DELFINO
W here is he? read my response to Oleander’s message, alerting me Hornet was in the air, traveling to Moscow. At least that’s as much as she could find out from Reaper, who was holding that information damned close to his chest. She was right to guess Typhon wouldn’t brief her either, given he’d know damn well she’d tell me and I’d change my plans.
Safe house in Arbat.
It made sense. The Moscow district offered the right balance of access to the city while providing secrecy and a plethora of escape options.
SVO flooded with U23, MI6, and FSB, read her next message.
That wasn’t a surprise either. That Hornet wasn’t there stunned me, though. On the other hand, given I wouldn’t land for another two hours, maybe he would be by the time my flight touched down.
US contact Amaryllis will meet you at SVO. Do not deboard. She’s credentialed and will escort you via alternate exit.
I couldn’t decide whether that was good news or not. Obviously, it was, based on my plan, but how much easier would it be if I simply allowed Hornet to find me? At risk was my ability to continue this mission, and that, above all else, had to be my top priority. The chance that he’d usher me straight back to the UK, or somewhere else that would prove harder for me to escape from, was too great. It was the reason I hadn’t confided my plans to him in the first place.
Roger that , I responded.
EJH en route to Cape Idokopas. Anya Antonova on guest list for event in 36 hours.
Code name?
Wraith.
Amaryllis?
She’ll transport you to CI, then you’re on your own.
Good. I navigated better alone, and since I’d never heard of this American, I didn’t want to chance her being an impediment.
Affiliation?
ISA.
My eyes flared. The Intelligence Support Activity was considered one of the most secretive units in the US Armed Forces. While officially connected to the Army, my guess was they were autonomous.
Which begged the question, was this operative currently tracking Jekyll—or EJH, as Oleander referred to him? If so, why? He certainly hadn’t been connected to the US military on his last official mission. He was Typhon’s commander at Unit 23.
The transport to Cape Idokopas was fantastic in itself. However, if Oleander knew about Jekyll being at the event, Hornet would too. Would I be able to make contact with my stepfather before my “bodyguard” caught up with me? That would be dependent on whatever connections Amaryllis might have that could facilitate that happening long before the event even started.
While unable to get me an audience with Jekyll, Amaryllis had arranged for a safe house, all the documents for my cover as Anya “Wraith” Antonova, as well as a gorgeous midnight-blue gown, chosen to blend rather than stand out.
I entered the gala, smoothing my dress that sparkled with wealth and secrets, icy diamonds glinting against black velvet and silk. It was being held at the president of Russia’s palace, where old money mixed with new, creating an intoxicating atmosphere of power and privilege that filled the historic grand ballroom.
The crystal chandeliers cast golden light across marble floors polished to mirror brightness, while string quartet music wove through conversation in a dozen languages. In any other circumstance, I might have appreciated the beauty of it all. Instead, I cataloged the escape routes and sight lines while maintaining the fake smile of a social climber working the room.
I was able to bypass the receiving line as well as swipe a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
More than an hour later, my feet ached from the heels, serving as a reminder of how long it had been since I’d worn them.
Worse, while my intel had placed Jekyll here tonight, each conversation I’d overheard, each face I’d studied, brought me no closer to finding him. However, I sensed that hiding somewhere near enough to watch me was the man who’d raised me, who’d let me believe he was dead for eleven years, only to resurface as a Russian agent.
My breath hitched when I saw someone else. Of course Hornet, who stood no more than three meters from me, had found me—he was too good not to. Leaning against one of the marble columns, he was devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored tuxedo that made him look as though he’d stepped out of a James Bond film.
Our gazes met across the crowded ballroom, and in that moment of connection, I saw everything I’d been running from—his concern, his loyalty, and something deeper that neither of us had dared name.
The string quartet shifted into a Tchaikovsky piece, the familiar melody stirring memories of late nights at Typhon’s flat, when Hornet would cook while I played classical music on the sound system. He’d pretend to be annoyed by my “pretentious” choices, but I’d catch him humming along. Those quiet moments of domesticity had been more dangerous than any firefight—they’d made me feel like I belonged somewhere, with someone. Him.
He moved through the crowd with sensual grace, every step bringing him closer while my pulse raced. I’d known leaving him would hurt, but I hadn’t expected the physical ache of separation these past couple of days. The guilt of abandoning him warred with the certainty that I’d made the right choice. Now, here he was. Soon, I’d know whether he intended to whisk me back to my protective confines or smoothly integrate himself into my mission as if we’d planned it together.
“Your security detail has arrived, Ms. Antonova,” he murmured in flawless Russian, using my cover identity as he took up position at my shoulder. The familiar warmth of his presence sent electricity down my spine. “I apologize for the delay.”
I grabbed a second glass of champagne, sipping it quickly to hide my response, using the moment to study him in the reflection of a nearby mirror. He looked tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from crossing too many time zones too quickly. Had he slept at all since I left? “I wasn’t anticipating your arrival tonight.”
“No?” He raised a brow. “Though, given the FSB surveillance team by the east entrance, perhaps you should have.”
I glanced where he’d indicated. He was right—I’d been so focused on finding Jekyll that I missed the obvious signs of FSB presence. Amateur mistake. Two years of working with Hornet had taught me better. So had more years being trained by Typhon. The watchers were good, but not good enough to completely hide their purpose. They moved with too much intention, their attention too focused despite their casual poses.
“I have my reasons,” I said softly, remembering all the times we’d had each other’s backs in similar situations. The way he could read my smallest gesture, how I could anticipate his moves before he made them.
“I know.” His hand brushed my lower back as he guided me away from the passing server carrying a tray where he deposited my glass. His touch sent sparks through my skin even through the fabric of my dress. “The same reasons that led you to chase Jekyll’s ghost from Bulgaria to Moscow and, eventually, here.”
I stiffened. He’d been tracking me since Sofia? A mixture of professional admiration and personal frustration surged through me. “Hornet?—”
“Save it.” His tone was professional, but I caught the undertone of hurt. “Right now, we need to focus on why Jekyll would suddenly start attending public events after eleven years in hiding.”
I turned slightly, using the movement to scan the room again. Through a break in the crowd, I spotted several faces I recognized from surveillance footage I’d found of him. My pulse quickened. If he wasn’t here yet, these people might know when he would arrive.
“Dance with me,” I said, turning to face Hornet. He raised a brow a second time but took my offered hand without hesitation. We moved onto the dance floor, the quartet’s waltz as familiar as breathing.
Hornet’s hand settled at my waist, strong and steady as we began to move. Despite everything, my body remembered this—other undercover operations where we’d played similar roles, always maintaining that professional distance even as chemistry crackled between us. I tried not to think about how perfectly we fit together, how natural it felt to follow his lead.
“My source confirmed he’ll be here tonight,” I murmured, letting him guide me through a turn that gave me a clear view of the room’s exits. “The question is, why?”
“And you planned to confront him how, exactly?” His grip tightened fractionally. “Without backup? Without extraction support?”
“I had a plan.”
“Like your plan with the FSB tail in Moscow?” His haunting blue eyes met mine, intense with something more than professional concern. In the golden light, I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, another sign of his rushed pursuit. “My sources told me you took unnecessary risks.”
I wondered if he was bluffing. While Amaryllis and I had picked up an FSB tail, had Hornet known how I managed to get off the plane? Was that what he was referring to?
“Everything about this is a risk,” I countered, then forced myself to soften my tone. His hurt expression was harder to face than any anger would have been. “I couldn’t involve you, Hornet. This is personal.”
“It became personal to me too the moment you left the flat.” The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. “You’re not alone in this, Kima. Even if you want to be.”
The music swelled around us, and for a moment, I let myself remember all the reasons I’d fallen for him. His steadfast loyalty, his dry humor, the way he could communicate volumes with a single look. The gentle way he’d tend to my injuries after difficult operations, his hands careful even as he lectured me about things I could’ve done better. How he’d bring me tea during late-night work sessions, always remembering exactly how I took it.
As if to emphasize his point, he smoothly guided us away from two men in dark suits who were moving through the crowd with focused intent. FSB, definitely. Whether they were following general surveillance protocol or had a specific interest in me didn’t matter—we needed to move. I felt the weight of Jekyll’s locket against my chest, a constant reminder of why I was here.
“I may be naive, but it feels as though he had a reason,” I said urgently, forcing myself to focus on the mission rather than the way his thumb was drawing small circles on my lower back. “For letting us think he was dead, for?—”
“I have reason to believe you’re right,” Hornet interjected, stopping me before I revealed too much. “But given the number of agents descending on this room, we need to focus on getting out of here alive.”
My mind raced. Jekyll wasn’t here yet, but the FSB team was closing in. Through the crowd, I spotted a third agent moving to cover the main exit. The choice crystallized. Either we withdrew and waited for another chance to find the man I sought, or we stayed and risked exposure.
Hornet picked up on my decision before I spoke. Two years of partnership had given us an almost telepathic connection in the field, one that apparently hadn’t faded despite my brief absence. “Service corridor,” he said, smoothly guiding our dance toward the edge of the floor. “I have gear stashed in a maintenance closet. Unless you’d prefer to fight our way out in that dress?”
Despite everything, I felt my lips curve. Same old Hornet, always prepared. “Race you to the exit?”
His answering smile sent warmth through my chest. “Does this remind you of Gozo?” he asked.
“God, no. I still have scars from Malta.” We separated smoothly, moving toward the exit. A young couple near us laughed at some private joke, reminding me of all the covers we’d played over the years. How many times had we pretended to be lovers while our real feelings stayed buried beneath protocol and professionalism? At least on Hornet’s part.
The FSB team was right behind us, but with Hornet at my back, I felt truly confident for the first time since leaving London. Jekyll was no longer here, if he’d ever been, but he would be somewhere. And next time, I’d be ready. I had to know why he’d chosen to let my mom and me believe he was dead for all those years. I couldn’t rest until I confronted him.
As we slipped through the service door, I caught Hornet watching me with an expression that made my heart skip. We had so much to talk about, and so many wounds to heal. But right now, we had to get out.