19. The Plan
The Plan
Monika
The promise tastes like poison on my tongue.
I made it hours ago—in the dark, in his bed, with his arms wrapped around me like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world. I told him I would help him. I told him I would be his partner. I told him I chose him.
And I meant it.
That's the worst part. I meant every word.
But meaning something and doing something are two different things. I've learned that the hard way—in the barn, in the diner, in this house. I've learned that survival requires a certain kind of duplicity, a willingness to say one thing while planning another.
Nathan wants to take over the empire. He wants to eliminate his father and his brother. He wants to build something bigger, something darker, something that will consume everything in its path.
I can't let that happen.
But I can't stop him from the outside. I've tried. I've stood in the warehouse and watched children being loaded into vans and I've tried to stop it, and I failed. I failed because I don't have power. I don't have resources. I don't have anything except steady hands and a desperate heart.
So I'll get power.
I'll get it from him.
I'll get inside his operation. I'll learn his secrets, his weaknesses, his fears. I'll become indispensable—the one person he trusts, the one person he needs, the one person he can't function without. And then I'll use that trust to dismantle everything he's building.
Piece by piece. Brick by brick. Until there's nothing left.
I don't know how long it will take. I don't know what it will cost me. I don't know if I'll survive it.
But I have to try.
The morning light is grey through the curtains.
Nathan is still asleep beside me—his arm draped over my waist, his breath warm against my neck. He looks younger in sleep. Softer. Like the boy he might have been if the world hadn't made him into what he is.
I watch him for a long moment. I memorize the shape of his face, the curve of his jaw, the way his lips part slightly as he breathes. I think about the way he said "I love you" last night. The way he looked at me when I said I chose him.
He believes me. That's the thing. He believes me completely.
And I'm going to destroy him.
I slip out of bed carefully, quietly, my feet silent on the cold floor. I pull on a robe—one of his, the dark silk that smells like cedar and smoke—and I walk to the window.
The city is waking up below. The streets are filling with cars, with people, with the ordinary chaos of ordinary lives. I can see the diner from here—the one where I used to work, the one where Aleksander walked in with a bullet in his side and changed everything.
I wonder if that girl is still in there somewhere. The one who pulled a bullet from a stranger's side and didn't ask questions. The one who believed she could save the world with steady hands.
She's gone now. She's been gone for a long time.
But maybe she can come back.
I find Gabriel in the greenhouse.
He's been here all night—I can tell by the way he looks, by the hollows under his eyes, by the way his hands tremble as he touches the orchids. He's been crying. He's been thinking. He's been doing all the things Gabriel does when he's trying to hold himself together.
He looks up when I enter. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale.
"Monika." His voice is hoarse. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you."
"I don't—" He stops. Swallows. "I don't know if I can do this right now."
"This is important." I walk toward him. I stop in front of him, close enough to touch. "I need you to listen."
He looks at me. His eyes are dark, almost black, the color of earth after rain.
"I'm listening," he says.
I tell him everything.
About Nathan. About the plan. About the promise I made and the promise I'm going to break.
"I'm going to work with him," I say. "I'm going to get inside his operation. And then I'm going to take him down from the inside."
Gabriel stares at me. His face is pale, his hands clenched at his sides.
"That's dangerous," he says.
"I know."
"You could get killed."
"I know."
"Monika—"
"I know, Gabriel." I reach for him. I take his hands in mine. They're cold, trembling. "But I have to try. I have to stop him. I have to save those children."
"You can't save everyone."
"I can try."
He's quiet for a long moment. The greenhouse hums around us—the grow lights, the heating system, the soft rustle of orchids in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, a door slams. Somewhere else, a clock chimes.
"You're not doing this for the children," he says finally. "You're doing this for Nathan."
I flinch. The words hit like a slap.
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" He pulls his hands away. He steps back, putting distance between us. "You love him. You love him, and you hate yourself for it, and you're trying to find a way to save him without destroying yourself in the process."
"I'm trying to stop him—"
"Same thing." His voice is sharp. "You're trying to save him, Monika. You're trying to save all of us. Because that's what you do. That's who you are."
I don't answer. I can't. Because he's right.
"I love you," he says. His voice cracks. "I love you, and I can't stop loving you, and I can't watch you destroy yourself for a man who doesn't deserve you."
"He's your brother."
"He's a monster." Gabriel's eyes are wet. "And so is my father. And so am I, probably. We're all monsters, Monika. We're all broken. And you're the only good thing in this house."
"I'm not good."
"You are." He steps toward me. He cups my face in his hands. "You're the only good thing I've ever known."
He kisses me.
It's not a desperate kiss.
It's not a hungry kiss. It's not a kiss that's trying to claim me or consume me or prove anything. It's the kiss of a man who knows he's saying goodbye. A kiss of someone who's memorizing the taste of my lips, the feel of my breath, the way my body fits against his.
I kiss him back.
I kiss him because I love him. I love him in a way that's different from the way I love Nathan, different from the way I love Aleksander. I love him because he's good. I love him because he's kind. I love him because he sees me—really sees me—and doesn't look away.
He pulls back. His forehead rests against mine. His breath is warm on my lips.
"I love you," he says. "Whatever happens. I love you."
"I know."
"I'm going to wait for you. I'm going to wait until you're done with whatever you need to do. And then—"
"And then what?"
"And then I'm going to take you away from here. I'm going to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere we can start over."
I close my eyes. I let myself imagine it—just for a moment. A small house. A garden. A life that isn't built on blood and secrets and cages.
"I'd like that," I whisper.
"Then it's going to happen." He kisses my forehead. "I promise."
He undresses me slowly.
The greenhouse is warm—warmer than it's ever been, the heating system working overtime to fight back the cold. The orchids watch us in silence, their petals pale and perfect, indifferent to the two broken people standing among them.
Gabriel's hands are gentle. They're always gentle. He treats my body like it's something precious, something fragile, something that might break if he's not careful.
But I'm already broken. I've been broken for a long time.
He lays me down on the floor. The stones are cold beneath my back, but I don't care. I don't care about anything except the feel of him above me, the weight of his body, the way his heart beats against mine.
"I'm going to remember this," he says. "Every moment. Every breath."
"Don't."
"I have to." He kisses my neck. My collarbone. The hollow of my throat. "I have to remember this. I have to have something to hold onto."
I pull him closer. I wrap my legs around his waist. I press my body against his like I'm trying to fuse us together.
"Then remember this," I say. "Remember me."
He enters me slowly.
It's not like Nathan—rough, demanding, desperate. It's not like Aleksander—intense, possessive, consuming. It's something else entirely. It's slow. It's tender. It's the kind of lovemaking that's about connection rather than conquest.
He moves inside me with purpose. With intention. He watches my face—the way my eyes flutter closed, the way my lips part, the way my breath comes in soft, desperate gasps. He's not chasing his own release. He's chasing mine.
"You're beautiful," he whispers. "You're so beautiful."
I feel tears prick at my eyes. I blink them back.
"Don't," I say. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to remember."
He stops. He looks at me. His eyes are dark, searching.
"What do you want?" he asks.
"I want to feel something." I arch my hips against his. "I want to feel something other than the fear."
He understands. He always understands.
He moves faster. Harder. He fucks me like he's trying to prove something—to me, to himself, to the world. He fucks me like he's trying to leave his mark on my body the way he's already left his mark on my heart.
I come with his name on my lips. Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel.
He follows a moment later, burying his face in my neck. His body shudders against mine. His breath is hot against my skin.
"I love you," he says again.
I don't answer. I can't.
But I hold him. I hold him like he's the only thing keeping me grounded to this world.
We lie there for a long time.
The orchids watch us in silence. The grow lights hum. The world outside the glass is dark and cold, but in here, it's just the two of us.
"I should go," I say finally.
"I know."
I sit up. I reach for my clothes. Gabriel watches me dress—his eyes sad, his face pale, his hands resting on his stomach.
"Monika."
"What?"
"When this is over—when you've done whatever you need to do—come find me."
"Gabriel—"
"Promise me." He reaches for my hand. His fingers are warm against mine. "Promise me you'll come find me."
I look at him. At his dark eyes, his desperate face, the way he holds himself like he's waiting for something that might never come.
"I promise," I say.
He kisses my hand. Softly. Gently. The way he does everything.
"Good," he says. "Now go."
I go.
The hallway is dark.
I walk through the mansion—past the portraits, past the chandeliers, past the doors that lead to rooms I've never seen and secrets I'll never know. I walk toward Nathan's office, where he's waiting for me. Where the rest of my life is waiting for me.
I stop outside the door.
I press my palm against the wood. I feel the warmth of him on the other side.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry for what I'm going to do."
He doesn't answer. He can't hear me.
I open the door.
Nathan is sitting at his desk, a map spread out in front of him. He looks up when I enter, and his face changes—softens, opens, becomes something I haven't seen before.
"You came," he says.
"I told you I would."
He stands. He walks toward me. He reaches for me, pulling me into his arms like he's afraid I might disappear.
"I was worried," he says. "I was worried you'd change your mind."
"I'm not going to change my mind."
He pulls back. He looks at me. His eyes are dark, intense, searching.
"You're sure?" he asks. "You're sure you want to do this?"
I think about Gabriel. About the promise I made and the promise I'll have to break. I think about the children in the cages. About Tasha. About the girl I used to be.
I think about the future I'm trying to build—not the one Nathan wants, but the one I need. The one where he's stopped. The one where the empire falls. The one where I'm free.
"I'm sure," I say.
He kisses me. It's not gentle. It's not tender. It's the kiss of a man who's been waiting for something he thought he'd never have.
"I love you," he says against my lips.
"I know."
We have sex on his desk. It's rough, demanding, the way it always is with Nathan. He fucks me like he's trying to prove something—prove that I'm his, prove that I belong to him, prove that no one else can have me.
I let him. I let him take what he wants.
Because I'm using him.
And I don't feel guilty about it anymore.
Afterward, we lie on the floor of his office.
The map is crumpled beneath us. The city is spread out above us—the territories, the routes, the plans for expansion. I can see the children's names on the map. The warehouses. The cages.
I'm going to burn it all down.
"Tell me about the plan," I say.
He turns to look at me. His eyes are dark, unreadable.
"The plan?"
"To take over the empire. To eliminate your father and your brother. Tell me how it works."
He's quiet for a moment. Then he smiles. It's a beautiful smile—sharp and predatory and full of teeth.
"You really want to know?"
"I told you I'd help you." I touch his face. "I need to understand what we're doing."
He tells me.
He tells me everything.
The plan is simple.
Nathan has been building a network of loyalists—men who owe him favors, men who share his vision, men who are willing to betray Aleksander for a chance at something bigger.
He's been moving money into offshore accounts.
He's been securing routes and territories that Aleksander doesn't know about.
He's been preparing for this moment for years.
"We'll move in two weeks," he says. "While my father is meeting with the Volkovs. Gabriel will be at a conference in Boston—I've already arranged it. The house will be empty except for the servants."
"And then?"
"And then I take what's mine." He pauses. "I'll have men stationed at the meeting. They'll take out my father. I'll handle Gabriel myself."
"You'll kill your own brother?"
"Brother." He laughs. It's a cold sound. "What has he ever done for me? What has either of them ever done except hold me back? They're weak, Monika. They're soft. They don't deserve what they have."
"And you do?"
"I'm the only one who can lead this family into the future." He looks at me. "I'm the only one who can protect you."
"I don't need protection."
"You need something." He touches my face. "You need someone who understands you. Someone who sees you for what you really are."
"And what am I?"
"Mine."
He kisses me again.
I let him.
Because I'm going to destroy him.