Page 131 of Mission Shift

“Putin didn’t invent this game,” I said. “He just mastered it. Flooding your media and sowing the seeds of doubt. Making truth so blurry that people don’t trust anything anymore. And once that happens, freedom becomes just another slogan.”

Braxton’s expression told me he was analyzing every word I said, but he didn’t interrupt my rant. Damn him, he was truly an empathetic guy and the best listener I’d ever come across. Part of me wanted him to challenge me, push back and argue. It would make it so much easier for me to walk away from him. But he didn’t.

“And then?” I laughed under my breath. “Then Americans will be no different from Russians.”

I lowered my voice to a whisper and said, “You don’t see it yet. But if Russia succeeds, there won’t be a United States left to save. There will be no land of the free. There will be no democracy. Just a handful of rich, powerful men controlling the entire planet while the rest of humanity toils at their feet.”

I turned and moved a few steps away, swallowing down the lump in my throat and blinking away the sting in my eyes.

“You wanted my truth? Why I want to return to Ukraine? There it is,” I said, turning back toward him.

His face was twisted with conflict.

Then it hit me. Suddenly, I saw our situation clearly—why we were here, why fate had tied us together, why we had no choice but to survive together or die alone.

Braxton and I weren’t just two people caught in the crossfire. Wewere the personifications of the worlds we were born into. Russia. America. Colliding as power shifted because of one unwarranted, pointless war.

I was no one now. A name erased. A person without a country, without an identity. Lost, yes, but also desperate to make amends—to make right the wrongs I’d committed. I was still standing, still searching for redemption.

And Braxton—I’d sacrificed everything to save him.

He was the only thing I had left that felt real.

But what now?

I shut my eyes, inhaling a steadying breath.

Now, we had to choose—find a path forward together or walk away for good.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. “You thought I would be thankful, didn’t you?” I whispered. “You thought you’d come in here, play the hero, and I’d throw myself into your arms, grateful to besaved. Like in all those American romance novels.”

“That’s not it—”

“Isn’t it?” I asked. “Isn’t that exactly what you thought? That I’d just happily become an American?”

A muscle in his jaw ticced. “I never said that.”

“But that’s exactly what you and Nikolai assumed,” I said. “It seems like you think I should just give up. That I should let them erase my entire fucking existence and just be happy that you pulled me out of the wreckage.” I took a step closer, unable to stop the tears welling in my eyes. “You think I should just forget that I was ever Daria Melnichenko?”

Braxton flinched.

Shame crept into his eyes as he seemed to realize the depth of his mistake.

And it had been a mistake.

Because he hadn’t understood—not really. He hadn’t slowed down long enough to understand how different our worlds were.

He hadn’t seen me for who I was—the good, the bad, and the broken.

Not until now.

“You don’t get it,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You think you’re saving me, but you’re just trying to make me someone I’m not. Someone I will never be.”

“You’re right,” he finally said. “About a lot of things—but not everything. Not the things that matter most.”

I arched a brow, waiting.

He met my gaze, and there was something fierce in his eyes. “I never saw you as someone whoneededsaving.”

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