27. Wolff
My hand curls into a fist under the table. I fucking hate that name. I buried it years ago.
“Who is she?” Miranda nods toward AJ.
“None of your business,” I answer in Czech.
“Ah.” She smiles slowly. “So she is your business.”
I don’t respond.
Her attention shifts back to AJ, lingering too long, picking her apart piece by piece. Miranda’s always been good at that—seeing things she shouldn’t, asking questions she doesn’t need answers to.
AJ shifts beside me. I should’ve known better than to bring her here.
“Maybe you should mind your fucking business, Miranda.”
“Oh, please. You showed up at my safehouse with a young, pretty girl. What did you think was going to happen?” Her eyes flick to me again. “And your Czech is getting sloppy.”
“It’s not.” My jaw tics. “Do you have the papers?”
She reaches into her coat and pulls out a thick envelope, sliding it across the table. I open it immediately, flipping through the passports. New names. New entry stamps. I stop on the last page.
Married.
Fuck.
That’s going to complicate things—shared movement, shared records, questions about our “relationship.” One more fucking thing for me to have to anticipate.
“You know we missed you…at Jake’s funeral.”
My hands stop as my heart stutters. “I was busy.”
“He was your brother, Dylan.”
My grip tightens on the envelope. I don’t look up.
“It’s been, what—eight years?” She continues, “No calls. No messages. And then you just show up out of nowhere.” Her gaze shifts briefly toward AJ. “Dragging someone who looks like she’s about to pass out behind you.”
Focus on the passports. The details. Anything but this goddamn motherfucking conversation.
“You and Jake were close as kids. Especially when you shut down and just…stopped speaking.” Something old and unwelcome pushing at the edges of my mind as I try to take a deep breath through my nose. “He was the only one who could get a word out of you.”
“Are you done?”
“It was a car accident,” she says, like I asked. “He left behind a wife and kid. Ethan’s six now.”
I inhale slowly, forcing it down. All of it.
This was a fucking mistake. Coming here. Sitting down. Letting her talk. I don’t have the time for this. And I sure as hell don’t have the patience.
Didn’t have better options either.
Miranda could get us fake passports faster than anyone else I know. And she wouldn’t sell us out. That’s the only reason I’m sitting here.
Still doesn’t make this any less of a fucking mistake.
“Jake talked about wanting you to meet him all the time.”
“Did you have a point, Miranda?”
“Yes. I have a point.” She leans forward, voice sharpening. “You disappeared, Dylan. Cut contact with everyone who knew you. And now you show up here after fucking years, no warning, using my MI6 resources”—her gaze drops—“with her. You won’t even hug your own sister, but she can touch you?”
My eyes lower, following her gaze…to AJ’s hand resting lightly on my thigh, fingers picking at loose threads in my jeans.
What.
The.
Fuck.
I feel everything. I always do.
That’s not possible.
My hand moves before I think about it, closing around her wrist and pulling it off me. She blinks up at me, pulling her hand back the rest of the way, confusion flickering across her face.
I don’t know why I touched her last night. Why I let her touch me.
Why I—
No.
It doesn’t matter.
It stops here.
“I haven’t seen you since you were nineteen.” Miranda keeps fucking talking, her Czech coming faster now. “And even then, you were already on every damn watchlist in Eastern Europe.”
My shoulders tense. I swallow roughly.
“And then you vanish, like you never even existed.” Her jaw sets. “Next thing I hear? The Sovereign has you. The worst kind of evil on this fucking planet.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “You’re not like them, Dylan. You never were. Don’t sit there and act like you belong with them.”
Fuck this.
I shove the passports back into the envelope and slide it into my jacket, standing.
Miranda doesn’t move. “I don’t know what the hell you’re mixed up in, but she looks terrified.
” Her eyes narrow on AJ. “And the Nightshades are targeting everything between here and the border. Flights are being grounded. Roadblocks getting paid off. Half the crossings in this region are compromised.” Shaking her head, her gaze locks onto mine. “Is she the reason for that?”
I keep moving.
“I’m your sister. Whatever this is…whatever you need—”
I grab AJ’s wrist and pull her out of the seat. She stumbles after me, eyes wide, quiet for once.
“Dylan—”
I don’t look back.
Cold air hits my face as I shove through the door, but it doesn’t cut through the fucking noise in my head.
You’re not like them.
She doesn’t know a fucking thing.
Dylan.
My teeth grind hard enough that my jaw aches. That name is fucking dead. Whatever she thinks she remembers—some weak, starving kid who didn’t speak—that wasn’t me.
That was a mistake that lived too long.
I was already hurting people by then. Already chasing that second where they stop fighting, stop breathing, stop being anything at all. The Sovereign didn’t make me into this. They found it. Recognized me for what I am. They gave a monster a purpose.
My grip tightens on AJ’s wrist as I drag her down the street, her steps uneven behind me.
You’re not like them.
Yes, I fucking am.
I’m exactly what they are. Exactly what they need. A killer. A bastard who gets hard when he feels bones break under his hands. A piece of shit who enjoys the moment the light goes out in their eyes.
If she had any idea what I’ve done—what I’ll keep doing—she wouldn’t be sitting there, trying to tell me I’m something better.
I’m not better.
I’m the worst.
Always have been.