Chapter 13 #2
Believing him capable of betrayal requires me to accept that he loved my brother even though someone with senior access helped the men who killed him. Our history deserves consideration, but it can’t grant him immunity.
“Katie is right,” I say.
Ivan looks at me.
“We review every person whose access touches the attacks,” I continue. “Blood doesn’t remove a name from the list.”
Nobody reaches for the reports, and the rustle of paper dies beneath the separate ventilation.
Ivan folds his glasses and sets them on the table. Without them, exhaustion shows more clearly around his eyes. “Then review me.”
“Boris already is.”
Katie’s hand moves under the table until her fingers touch mine. The contact is brief, unseen by the others, but it steadies a decision I should never have needed help making.
I change the main screen to the casino reopening plan. “Dymov Casino stays closed until the revised procedures survive final testing. Inspection times will change without notice. Response teams receive separate sections, and no single officer sees the complete schedule.”
Ivan reaches for his glasses. “Send me the changes. I’ll test the gaps before the doors open.”
“No.”
He stops with the glasses halfway to his face.
I have never denied Ivan access to a security plan. The refusal feels like closing a door inside my own house with him on the other side.
“Boris and I will test it,” I say. “You’ll receive only the section you supervise.”
Ivan replaces his glasses slowly. “You’re allowing suspicion to weaken command.”
“Compartmentalization strengthens command. You taught me that.”
I use his own doctrine without raising my voice; color enters his face anyway.
An alarm replaces whatever he intended to say.
The west screen turns red above a live view of a small materials yard south of the city.
A black truck has broken through the outer gate, leaving two masked men to move between stacks of drainage pipe as a second vehicle waits beyond the fence.
The camera shakes from the impact; metal scraping across concrete brings back the first seconds after Misha’s bomb, when noise arrived before pain and made every voice useless under the ringing.
Katie’s hand closes around mine under the table, bringing the present screen back into focus. This yard has a new response plan built from separate sections, leaving nobody on-site with enough information to expose the whole defense.
Boris answers the secure phone, and the yard supervisor uses the new duress phrase, confirming the attack without announcing the position of his guards.
Our former plan would have sent the nearest visible patrol through the main entrance, but that route is empty now. The revised team approaches through an adjoining warehouse as remote barriers close the truck inside the yard.
The attackers fire toward the guard booth.
Nobody is in it.
My lungs release their held breath, but cold sweat still gathers under my collar. Yesterday, men would have died inside that booth before the response team reached the gate. Today, bullets break empty glass as the supervisor keeps his crew belowground.
Muzzle flashes cross the screen as Dymov guards answer from the warehouse roof. The two men retreat toward their truck before discovering the barriers behind them, then abandon the vehicle to escape through a cut section of fence. Their waiting car leaves before the outer response arrives.
The entire attack lasts less than four minutes. “Injuries?” I ask, and Boris stays on the line until the supervisor confirms the yard crew remained inside the lower storage room. Nobody was hurt while the attackers struck the route from yesterday’s plan.
Katie’s fingers tighten around mine.
Yesterday, the yard inspection schedule existed in the full security packet. This morning, Boris changed it after Ivan entered the mansion; the attack followed obsolete information.
Ivan looks at the screen. “Pasha may have planned the strike before today.”
“He may have,” I say.
The possibility exists, but this is our first casualty-free response under the compartmentalized plan.
I order every property moved onto the compartmentalized system; Ivan receives the western construction sites, nothing more. He accepts the assignment without argument, though he leaves the room before the other captains arrive.
Katie watches the closed door.
“You believe him,” she says.
“I believe the man who raised me wouldn’t sell access to my enemies.”
“That answer includes what you want.”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t press, and her thumb moves once across the side of my hand before she releases it.
The rest of the day divides into revised routes and men offended by receiving less information than they possessed yesterday.
Boris and I run the casino’s revised procedures through a closed-floor test before authorizing the evening reopening.
Katie stays through every discussion affecting her movement, and when a captain tries to send her from the room before naming the threat to Cherry’s apartment, I make him repeat the report to her directly.
By the time we return to the safe house, I have been awake too long and trusted too little.
The reinforced door looks less severe than it did when I first saw it. Katie’s coat hangs beside mine in the cedar closet, and one pair of her shoes rests crooked under the shelf to break the line of my boots. The signs of her life make the house look inhabited rather than merely defended.
I unlock the reinforced front door, knock against it after opening, then wait on the threshold.
Katie’s voice comes from the bedroom. “Are you announcing yourself to an empty hallway?”
“I’m observing the treaty.”
“Enter peacefully.”
I walk down the short hall rehearsing the security update about the materials yard, casino, and Cherry’s apartment.
Katie sits cross-legged in the center of our bed with her phone propped against a pillow, wearing my white shirt with only three buttons closed.
The hem has gathered high on her thighs; under it, shadow and the warm scent of her skin confirm she has no underwear.
My clothing has never looked so disobedient.
Every sentence leaves my head.
Cherry’s face fills the phone screen. “He’s staring again.”
Katie glances toward me. “Give him a moment. His security briefings require a long visual assessment.”
My cock hardens as I look at the bare skin disappearing under my shirt, but Cherry’s laughter reminds me that both women can see my face.
“The yard is secure. Nobody was injured, and the new response plan worked. The casino reopened without incident. Your apartment passed its second inspection with two guards assigned to the rear entrance.”
Katie’s amusement fades into relief. “Good. Cherry was worried about that door.”
Cherry lifts her chin on the screen. “Then you can prove it over dinner. I want one normal meal with both newlyweds before this war destroys everyone’s sense of humor.”
Katie looks at me, still half naked in my shirt.
The first rule of the safe house requires shared schedules; the second guarantees Cherry unrestricted contact. Neither prepared me for being summoned to dinner by video call.
“Choose the place,” I say.
Cherry smiles. “I already did.”