Page 77 of Mission Shift

I breathed through the haze creeping over my mind, forcing myself to focus. The drug wouldn’t make me tell the truth—not necessarily—but it could make me share things I shouldn’t. And that was just as dangerous. I had to play this carefully.

The doctor leaned over me, watching, waiting.

After a few minutes, he demanded, “Tell me how you and the American with close ties to the Pakhan of the Volkovi Notchi became close. So close that you risked your life and blew your cover to save him. And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was because he waskind.”

My lips parted, and a giggle bubbled up from my chest. The drug had made me feel drunk and playful. God, I needed this. As long as I could keep my thoughts to myself, I was going to love the way this drug relaxed me. The monitor confirmed that my heart rate had lowered to a calm pace.

“This stuff isn’t bad at all,” I said, chuckling. “Maybe you should sell it and make a mint.”

Dr. Gore’s annoyed grimace told me he had lost patience with me, but I had no control over how I was reacting.

I exhaled slowly, and trying to keep the laughter out of my voice, I said, “Like I told the prison interrogators and you gentlemen, I had no idea he had any ties to Nikolai Volkov.” I bit my lip. “What do you want me to do? Fabricate something just so you can get off on it? I didn’t learn anything about the Volkovi Notchi that my father doesn’t already know.”

But Dr. Gore wanted more.

And men like him didn’t like being denied.

He hummed. “Let’s move on. How about your Ukrainian handlers then? Who did you report to?”

I let my eyelids droop, rolling my head slightly to the side. “Dead.” My voice was lethargic, distant. “They were all killed the very night I met Mr. Boy Scout.”

He clicked his tongue. “How convenient.”

I released a slow exhale. “The only other Russian double agent I knew of…” I swallowed, blinking sluggishly. “Died when I blew him up the next morning. Sad really. He was a sweetheart. Too young to be just another statistic in Putin’s vanity war. Why do weak men like you worship such a tiny little roach?” I started laughing and couldn’t stop myself. I’d met the man. He was like five feet tall and had beady little eyes.

A pause.

Dr. Goryachov studied me, his fingers stroking his jaw.

“Are there other Russians working for Ukraine?” he asked, his voice clipped and angry. I’d struck a nerve.

“There may be others,” I murmured. “But I don’t know who. The Ukrainians…they are always careful.” I made my breath stutter, letting my body sag slightly against the restraints. “This. This exact thing… They planned for it. Ukrainians are smart. They don’t fuck around.”

I caught a flicker of frustration in his gaze.

Good.

It meant I was winning.

His jaw tightened. “What else are you hiding?”

I willed my muscles to stay loose, relaxing my body as if the drug had fully taken hold. But my mind—it was still mine.

“I don’t…” I frowned, feigning confusion. “What else?”

His eyes darkened.

I couldn’t let him dig deeper.

I couldn’t let him find the things I wouldn’t even let myself admit—the things that would truly break me.

I couldn’t tell him about why I’d helped Braxton.

Couldn’t tell him how he had listened to me.

How I had told him things I’d never told anyone.

How I’d felt safe with him.

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