Page 25 of Filthy Lies

“And your father?”

“A more complicated problem.” I run a hand through my hair. “Killing him outright would destabilize the entire organization. Create a power vacuum that could lead to war.”

“So what do you do?”

“I isolate him. Cut him off from his support base and turn his captains against him. Then, when the time is right, I remove him permanently.”

Sofiya emits another small whimper, and both of us instinctively look at her. Her tiny face scrunches briefly before relaxing again.

It’s a strange thing, for your heart to suddenly existoutsideof your body. I can see it now, touch it, smell it, hear it. It’s rightthere—not in me, but over there, reachable, where anyone can simply pluck it away from me.

It’s a strange fucking thing, the twists and turns this life of mine has taken.

“That still leaves Grigor in the mix,” Rowan prompts after a moment.

“What happens there depends on him.” I choose my words carefully. “If he discovers your identity but makes no move against us, we do nothing. If he tries to use you or claim you?—”

“You kill him, too.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes. I do.”

Rowan is silent for a long moment, processing everything. I expect her to be overwhelmed, to break down now that the adrenaline of survival has worn off.

Instead, she looks up at me with clear, determined eyes. “I want to help.”

“Row—”

“No, listen to me.” She pats Sofi’s back gently. “I’m not the same woman I was before. I can’t be, not after what happened. And I refuse to be a passive participant in my own life anymore.”

“You just gave birth. In captivity.”

“Exactly. And I survived. I protected our daughter.” Her voice grows stronger. “I’m not saying I want to go out there and start shooting people. But I need to be involved in the decisions. Ineed to know the plans. I need to be your partner in this, not just someone you protect.”

I study her face. This is the woman who threatened to kill her captor with a syringe while holding our newborn child. She endured labor alone in a filthy room and kept our daughter alive against impossible odds.

She’s earned the right to know.

“Okay,” I agree finally. “Partners.”

Her shoulders sag as relief passes over her. “Thank you.”

“But you focus on recovering first. On taking care of Sofiya. Let me handle the immediate threats.”

“Fair enough.” She leans into me, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Come back to us.” Her voice breaks slightly. “Whatever you do out there, whatever kind of monster you have to become to keep us safe… come back to us whole.”

I seal my lips to her forehead. “I promise.”

We sit motionless in the dark, our eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Sofiya’s tiny chest. The crushing reality of our situation radiates through the room like a nuclear winter—but right here, right now, watching our daughter’s perfect face, we’ve carved out this single pristine moment.

One breath of oxygen in the suffocating chaos we call our life.

One heartbeat of serenity while the world outside plots our destruction.

“I want to show you something,” I say eventually, helping her to her feet.

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