Page 98 of Mission Shift

I had believed that.Once.

The memory twisted, turning on itself like a knife in my ribs.

I had done the same, hadn’t I? I’d seen Braxton as a stray dog—lost, needing help. The irony curdled in my stomach. I hadpitied him. I had saved him. And all the while, he had been lying to me.

Not once had he mentioned Nikolai Volkov.

Not once had he let it slip that he had connections to the Volkovi Notchi—the same ruthless mafia syndicate that had been at war with my father for decades, the same syndicate that ran drug and sex trafficking rings, that burned entire families alive, that had left bodies rotting in the streets of Moscow, St. Petersburg, and New York.

And Braxton was close to them.

Close enough that Nikolai Volkov had been willing to negotiate his release with the Kremlin in exchange for me.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

My father’s men had tortured me, strapped me down, and shocked me until my screams became something less than human. And Braxton? The man I had trusted—his betrayal had cut me even deeper.

He hadn’t told me who he truly was, what he truly meant to those people.

I had once thought him helpless.

I had been so fucking wrong.

Braxton wasn’t a stray. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I continued down the hallway.

At the landing, the wide formal staircase stretched before me, curving down into the grand entrance hall. The mahogany railing gleamed beneath my fingertips, worn smooth by generations of hands—mine included, once upon a time.

I descended slowly, with Svetlana following close behind.

At the base of the stairs, a household staff member in a dark suit stood waiting, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward and reached for the door.

The moment he opened it, I immediately noticed the upgrade.

A state-of-the-art security system. A sleek, modern panel embedded discreetly beside the heavy oak door. Keypad. Retinal scanner. Reinforced locks.

My father always did love his cages.

I forced my features into a mask of indifference and stepped past the man, into the evening air.

A sleek black limousine purred in the driveway, its tinted windows reflecting the towering estate behind me.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting the world in gold and shadow. A warm breeze stirred the hem of my dress, whispering against the cobblestones as I approached the waiting car.

The driver opened the door, his face emotionless.

I slid inside, keeping my body poised while my mind whirred with the various escape plans I’d already gone over a million times.

Svetlana followed, settling into the seat across from me. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, her posture flawless and controlled.

The door shut, the locks automatically clicking into place.

Then the car eased forward, gliding toward the estate’s iron gates. They creaked open, inch by inch, before finally releasing us into the city beyond.

As the mansion faded into the distance, one thought burned through me like fire.

I would not let them own me, and I would not fail.

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