Page 53 of Tattooed Vow

“No,” Talia says firmly. “I want to stay alive. And so should you.” She glances toward the door, lowering her voice. “Besides, it’s not just about us. We have to consider the children. They’ve been targeted before, and I refuse to let any more harm come to them.”

“You’re right, but I was dragged into this mess and I need to know-”

My phone buzzes, startling us both. Unknown number.

“Don't answer it,” Talia warns.

I ignore her, swiping to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Sandy? It's Nick.”

My stomach drops. Nick. My ex-boyfriend.

“What do you want?” I demand.

His voice is tight with anxiety. “Listen, I don't have much time. I have information. About you and the Russian you're mixed up with.”

I sit up straighter, my pulse quickening. “What are you talking about?”

“Not over the phone,” he hisses. “They could be listening.”

“Who's 'they'?”

“Morozov's people. Look, you're in danger, Sandy, more than you realize.”

Talia is watching me intently, mouthing,“Who is it?”

I hold up a finger in response, and she presses her lips into a tight, silent line, the question still burning in her eyes.

“Nick, you're not making any sense. How would you know anything about?—”

“Because I work for them,” he cuts in, his voice barely above a whisper. “For Morozov and the Butcher. I've heard things...about you.”

Ice floods my veins. “You work for Morozov?”

"I have to go. Meet me tomorrow at noon at the coffee shop on Bedford Ave. Come alone.”

“Nick, wait?—”

But he’s gone.

I lower the phone slowly, meeting Talia's worried gaze.

“That was Nick,” I say unnecessarily.

“I gathered. What did he want?”

I relay the conversation, watching her expression shift from skepticism to alarm.

“It's a trap,” she declares when I finish. “Obviously. He's working for Morozov now and trying to lure you out.”

“Or,” I counter, “he genuinely wants to help. Maybe he's in over his head and trying to get out.”

“Help?” Talia arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “He just admitted he works for Morozov. The same man who wants you dead.”

“Which means he might have critical information.” I stand, pacing the plush carpet. “Information that could help Dimitri understand what he’s up against. Information about the Butcher.”

“Then tell Dimitri. Let him handle it.”

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