Page 114 of Mission Shift

His nostrils flared, and the muscles in his forearms jumped like he was forcing himself to stay still. But I saw it—the moment the guilt in his eyes hardened into something else, something forged in its own kind of fire. He squared his shoulders and clenched his fists at his sides. For the first time since he’d stepped through that door, he looked at me like I wasn’t the only one ready to start a war.

“Are you done?”

The sheer audacity of his question sent another wave of rage ripping through me.

I readjusted my grip on the knife, and my body coiled again. “Not even close.”

“Yeah? Well, tough shit.” He took another step forward, as if daring me to hurt him. “Because I’m done standing here while you rip me apart like I did this on purpose. Like I woke up one day and said, ‘Hey, let me drop into the middle of a fucking war and ruin Daria Melnichenko’s life.’”

I bared my teeth. “You did ruin my life.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Funny. I was about to say the same damn thing.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You want to talk about betrayal of trust? Fine. But let’s get something straight.” His chest rose and fell slowly. “I never fucking lied to you. I didn’t get the chance. Every second since I met you has been about staying one step ahead of death.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Because ofme?”

“Yeah. You.” He pointed at me, his eyes burning. “The woman who nearly killed me in an abandoned house. The woman who dragged a dying man through a war zone only to blow him up while he was still alive. The woman who took me hostage, shot a young kid not once but twice, and then drove like a lunatic through the woods in utter darkness while missiles flew over our heads. The woman who was chained to me while she shot off a gun next to my face. And that was just in the first forty-eight hours!”

I held his gaze.

“You think I had time to sit down and write out a fucking biography for you?” he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm. “You think I even knew what the hell was happening when you—this Russian Special Intelligence officer—showed up in my life and turned it into a goddamn action movie? Because I didn’t.”He exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “I didn’t even know if I’d make it back to Ukraine alive. And even when I started piecing shit together about the mafia connections, I barely had time to breathe, let alone figure out the best way to tell you something that—let’s be real—you wouldn’t have believed anyway.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“Don’t I?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Come on, Daria. Be honest. If, back in that trench, I had told you, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m friends with the guy whose family has been at war with yours for decades and happens to be an international hacker with zero loyalties to any government—but don’t worry; I swear I’m a good guy,’ what do you think you would’ve done?”

I gritted my teeth so hard they ached.

“Exactly,” he bit out. “You would have put a bullet between my eyes. And I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I wouldn’t have killed him.

But we both knew I would have.

“You don’t know shit,” I muttered.

Braxton threw up his hands, shaking his head. “No? I know enough. I know you think this world is nothing but monsters and victims. That you’re the only one who’s been burned by the people who were supposed to protect you. That you’re alone.”

I didn’t want to hear this.

But I listened.

“But you’renotalone. There are people out there who want to help you. Whowouldhelp you if you let them. You think I wanted any part of this? To be standing here, in some mafia thug’s fucking mansion, trying to convince you I would never intentionally betray you?” He shook his head. “I’ve spent my whole damn life trying to do the right thing. Trying to help people. Trying to fix people. And what did it get me?”

He spread his arms wide.

“This,” he said. “A goddamn nightmare where I have no control, no power, and nothing but fucking hope that I can at least get you out of here alive. And in return, you act like I’m just another enemy, threatening me with a knife and telling me I don’t know shit.”

I hated how his words made something twist in my chest.

“You don’t know what you cost me,” I whispered, glancing down at the blade in my hand.

His expression darkened. “I know exactly what I cost you. And I will never forgive myself for it.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and electric.

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