Page 66 of Broken Embers

It’s plain, hand-delivered by someone high-level. I cut the seal and open it carefully.

Inside is a neatly folded set of papers—thick, creamy stock, the kind used for official signatures.

The Dragunov crest is watermarked in the corner.

Signed.

Dated.

Stamped.

The alliance between the Mirochins and Dragunovs is once again secured.

I let out a breath, turning it over in my hands.

Sabrina tilts her head. “What is it?”

I lift the first page. “The new treaty. The elusive Ruslan Dragunov signed it.”

Her brows shoot up. “Already?”

“Apparently, yes.” I grin, seeing the impish glint in her eyes. “What did you do?”

She shrugs, feigning innocence. “Just sent him a little something to watch that I found of him and his buddy Konstantin discussing the cleanup of one of Mikhail’s messes.”

I stare at her. “Seriously?”

She smirks. “I was very polite. I even said ‘please’.”

I shake my head, amazed, and utterly in love. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Too late for that,” she teases.

But then her smile falters. Her hand drifts to her pocket, pulling out her watch.

“What is it?” I ask, already on edge again.

“Tara,” she whispers. “I told Ruslan he had to get her to us by five today.”

My gut tightens. I check my own watch. Four-fifty-nine.

And then—like fucking clockwork—my phone rings.

Unknown number.

Sabrina and I lock eyes.

I swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

A familiar female voice comes through. “Oleksi?”

Sabrina snatches the phone. “Tara?”

“Rina!” her voice explodes with emotion, and I hear the simultaneous relief and excitement in Sabrina’s gasp.

“Oh my God. Rina!”

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