Page 120 of Mission Shift

“Malinov’s gonna have to blow it apart,” Nik mused. “Sucks to be him.”

I barely heard him. My focus was locked on the streets leading to the marina.

“Nik, are you in position?”

“Already waiting, princess,” he taunted.

A few minutes later, I whipped the car into the lot, tires screeching against concrete. “You’d better have that boat ready to move.”

The superyacht towered in front of us like a floating fortress.

As soon as the car stopped, Daria pushed her door open and stumbled out. I exited swiftly and I caught her elbow before she could argue.

“Come on,” I muttered, swinging her up in my arms and carrying her toward the gangway.

“Put me down. I’m fine,” she demanded, but I ignored and kept on walking.

Nik stood at the top of the ramp, holding his arms out wide like he was welcoming us to a five-star Mediterranean cruise.

“Welcome to theValkyrie, my friends,” he drawled. “A state-of-the-art, sixty-five-meter masterpiece of naval engineering. She’s got twin MTU 20V 4000 M93L engines—because why settle for one when you can have two? A top speed of twenty-eight knots. Teak decks, infinity pool, a beach club, and more firepower than a goddamn missile cruiser.” He smirked. “In other words, she’s a beast.”

I ignored the sales pitch, holding Daria close as we stepped aboard. “She needs some medical care,” I said bluntly. “You got pain meds, antibiotics?”

Nik snorted. “I have an entire infirmary below deck. But first, the captain and I need to focus on hitting international waters. You two get below deck and be ready to hold on to whatever you can. She’s pretty agile for a big girl.”

One of the two crew members standing behind Nik gestured toward the interior. “We’ll take you to your rooms,” she offered politely.

Daria gave Nik an absolute death glare but remained silent.

“Where the fuck did you get this thing?” I asked him.

Nik smirked. “Right friends in the right places. And best of all, the crew has lots of experience navigating under, let’s just say, less than ideal circumstances.”

I exhaled sharply, tightening my grip on Daria. “No wonder you holed up here instead of helping at the estate.”

“Yeah, well, I had eyes all over the place and several good people on the inside,” he said, leaning in. “Listen, if we survivedodging every Russian patrol from here to the Atlantic, we can all kick back and enjoy every luxury on this boat.”

I shook my head and followed the crew members inside.

The main deck stretched out before us, sleek and immaculate. The overhead lighting cast a soft glow over the polished wood and modern steelwork. Glass panels lined the walls, offering uninterrupted views of the dark water beyond.

Nik clapped me on the shoulder. “Get some rest, hero. We’ve got a long run ahead. I’ll be up here in the conference room if you need anything.”

Before we went below deck, Daria insisted I put her down. I didn’t argue. The two crew members led us down a hallway lined with doors—guest quarters, I assumed.

Daria was escorted into the first room as I was ushered into the next.

Chapter thirty-six

The cabin was quiet. It was the kind of stillness that felt unnatural after everything that had happened. The suite was larger than I’d expected, with a bed that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel instead of a getaway vessel. There were small porthole windows running along one wall that would, thankfully, let in natural light. The closet, filled with clothes and shoes, stood open. I guess it was Nikolai’s way of making sure I had everything I needed for wherever the hell we were headed.

I toed off the heels and pressed my feet against the cool floor, wincing as a dull ache spread through my soles. The dress—once beautiful, now ruined—hung pitifully from my exhausted body, wrinkled and stiff from dried blood. I shuffled to the en suite, suddenly feeling dead tired. Gripping the zipper, I pulled down and let the dress fall around my feet. I picked it up and rippedthe stitching apart, recovering my passport and other items Svetlana had hidden.

Once again, the photo of my mother made tears sting my eyes. Her smile hit harder than it should have. I laid my things on the counter, but my gaze stayed on her.

She’d been wearing her pearls in that picture. The same ones I had around my neck now. The only two things in the world I had left of her—this photo, and the necklace she used to wear before the Devil tore our lives apart.

I twisted the strand between my fingers, slow and absent, wishing—just for a moment—that life had been different. That I could’ve grown up with her instead of being forged by him. But the past was a locked door. I could stare at it all I wanted. It wouldn’t open.

---