Page 103 of Dark Rebel's Fortune

KYRA

The hunting cabin looked exactly as Max had described—rustic, isolated, nestled among tall pines that whispered in the mountain breeze. Kyra studied it through the windshield of their rental car with trepidation, suddenly reevaluating the wisdom of her decision to meet Boris.

She'd faced Doomers, gunfire, and torture with less anxiety than she felt now, facing a weathered wooden structure and a piece of her past that needed closure.

"Are you sure about this?" Max asked, his hand covering hers where it rested on her knee.

Kyra nodded, glancing at the small mirror in the rental's sun visor. Eva's handiwork was remarkable—fine lines etched around her eyes and mouth, subtle graying at her temples, a softening of her jawline, anda little padding but not as pronounced as the fat suit she'd worn on the mission.

The woman had aged her twenty years with such skill that even Kyra had been startled by her reflection.

"It needs to be done," she said. "For his sake and for mine."

It wasn't pure altruism on her part. Boris held missing pieces of her past she had no other way of reconstructing.

Max squeezed her hand. "Then let's do it."

They'd agreed on a cover story that contained as much truth as possible. Her father's dastardly deed, shock treatment, and drugs that robbed her of her memory, and finally being found in Kurdistan by chance. The rest she would improvise, though Max had assured her that Brundar's suggestion to Boris to accept that her disappearance wasn't his fault had taken root.

Nodding, Kyra opened her door before she could reconsider.

The air was cooler up here in the mountains, carrying the scent of pine and other vegetation. The cabin was not well kept—peeling paint, sagging gutters, and an accumulation of fallen branches on the roof.

Perhaps it was because Boris was getting older and didn't have the energy to do the upkeep, or maybe his finances were not allowing him to hire help.

Max knocked on the door, then moved aside.

The door swung open to reveal Boris, looking older and more worn than she'd expected given the pictures of him that Jasmine had shown her. His hair had thinned and grayed at the temples, his face was puffy and slightly lined, and his middle had thickened considerably. But his eyes were sharp, intelligent, and a beautiful shade of blue.

She had a feeling it had been his eyes that she'd fallen in love with.

They widened with shock as they fell on her.

"Hello, Boris," she said softly. The name felt strange on her tongue, divorced from any emotional context.

He staggered backward, one hand reaching for the doorframe to steady himself. "Kyra?" His voice cracked around her name. "My God... Kyra?"

He'd been expecting Jasmine, who had called ahead to make sure he was there, and at first, the plan was for her to come along, but in the end Kyra decided that she needed to do it alone. Max had to be there in case thralling was needed following their talk, but that was it.

"May we come in?" she asked.

Boris nodded mutely, stepping aside to allow them entry. The interior of the cabin was dimly lit and smelled strongly of whiskey and cigarette smoke. Empty bottles stood in haphazard formation on a coffee table littered with old magazines and an overflowing ashtray.

"I apologize for the mess," he said, hastily gathering some of the debris. "I wasn't expecting guests."

Evidently, he didn't count Jasmine as a guest, which made sense. He was her father after all.

His eyes shifted back to Kyra's face, drinking in every detail with desperate intensity. She felt a pang in her chest—not the rekindling of old feelings, but a profound sadness for what had been lost, for what this man had endured.

"Please, sit," he offered, gesturing to the sofa. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Whiskey?"

"Nothing for me, thank you." Kyra lowered herself onto the sofa.

Max sat beside her, his presence steady and reassuring. Boris had met Max before when he’d come here with Jasmine, but from what Kyra understood, Max had been erased from Boris’s memory with a thrall, so she should introduce him again.

“This is Max, my fiancé,” she said.

Boris nodded and sank into an armchair across from them. "How are you here, Kyra?" he said, ignoring Max. "What happened to you? Why did you leave me?"

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