Page 99 of Mission Shift

Chapter thirty-one

The day of the engagement party arrived. We stood in an underground tailor shop beneath a discreet cafe in Kyiv—a favorite of oligarchs and mobsters, men who paid heavily to look untouchable. I stood stiffly, arms spread wide as the tailor adjusted the final details of my bespoke tuxedo. The fabric was immaculate—midnight black and fitted perfectly across my shoulders. I wore a crisp white shirt beneath.

Nik leaned casually against a wall nearby. “Not bad. You might actually pass for a tech guy with lots of money.”

“Should I start demanding people call mesirand get a watch the size of my fist?”

Nik snorted. “Don’t embarrass me.”

He handed me my forged ID, a passport, and a dossier. I opened it, reading about my new identity.

“Wyatt Sullivan. Crypto-investment CEO of CoinBites. Very subtle,” I remarked dryly. “Now I can act like an arrogant billionaire like you.”

Nik’s crooked smirk widened. “Rich assholes at these parties love to talk a big game. Just nod and bullshit your way through.”

I snapped the file shut and exhaled sharply through my nose. “You know I’m not a tech guy.”

He shrugged. “No, but you’re smart. You pick shit up fast. And I was able to spend the last week drilling you on crypto, hacking, and satellite operations.”

He crossed his arms, tilting his head. “You just have to sound like you know what you’re talking about. If you give them a few key phrases, they’ll do most of the talking for you.”

I rolled my shoulders, feeling the expensive, smooth fabric shift over my frame. “Right. So if someone asks me about my investments, what do I say?”

Nik grinned. “Tell them you’re diversified in decentralized assets but you’re playing the long game with AI-driven market strategies.”

I grunted. “I fucking hate you.”

He laughed. “You’ll live. Just don’t punch anyone until we have Daria.”

The tailor took a few steps back. “Perfect fit, sir.”

I adjusted my cuff links, watching myself in the mirror. The suit screamed wealth and power. It was the kind of thing that made men in these circles respect you before you even opened your mouth.

But I didn’t care about any of it.

Not the party.

Not the money.

Not the fucking cover story.

I only cared about one thing—Daria.

She was trapped in Malinov’s twisted grip. And I was standing here getting fitted for a tux like some billionaire prick while she was being dressed up for a nightmare.

Nik caught sight of my expression in the mirror and sighed. “You’re not going to blend in if you keep looking like you’re about to murder someone.”

“I’m not going there to mingle,” I hissed. “I’m going there to bring her home.”

Nik gave me a short, approving nod. “Then don’t fuck this up.”

“I don’t plan to.”

We were about to walk into hell.

And I was ready to destroy anything in my path to save her.

Chapter thirty-two

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