Page 14 of Unbroken

Rafail's voice slices clean through the fog in my head, cutting deeper than a blade. I don't look at him. I stare at the red lips still pulsing on the screen, glowing like fresh wounds. Targets.

An odd one. My jaw is clenched so tight that I can feel the tension throbbing behind my ears. Or is that a headache? I've lost track.

"I won't ever tell you to stop grieving," Rafail says, his voice rough. I know he speaks from experience. "I don't know if that ever fully goes away. But I'm telling you to weaponize it before someone innocent gets caught in the crossfire. Be the fucking monster they're terrified of. Not reckless, not going off half-cocked on a shooting spree. Not the man who's burned himself the fuck out and is too tired to show up."

My eyes snap to his. He's not calling me any of those things, but he's telling me that's what could happen. We’ve both seen it happen before. We both know we could see it happen again.

I think of Matvei, how he watched his sister die, and his brother—killed by his own hand because of betrayal. He continued to show up, even after we found out his parentsbetrayed him, too, that his whole fucking family was useless. And yet—he's still here.

But now he's in love, and I wonder if it hits the same.

I bite down the instinct to snap back at Rafail, that old defense mechanism. I could tell him I'm doing my best, that I'm raising a son alone, that I'm walking through my dead wife's ghost every single fucking day.

But I know him, and I know myself. He doesn't want excuses. And I don’t want to be weak. He wants results. So do I.

So I draw in a breath and let it out slowly. And I find myself wondering, oddly, what Ruthie is doing right now. Is Luka in her presence? Are they curled up on the couch watching TV? Did he help her load the dishes after breakfast? Is she sitting on the floor with him, pushing around his little race car that he loves so much?

She always had more patience with those things than I did—just like her sister—but Ruthie was crazier. Wilder. Mariah would be the one reminding Luka to brush his teeth, and Ruthie would be wondering how many more cookies they could have before bed.

Rafail clears his throat. I did it again—let my memory and focus wane. “What’s the plan? What do you need from me?”

He lifts his chin toward the screen. “This school right here? It’s not random. You know one of our shell companies owns the land behind it. What else can you tell me about this?”

I nod. I know one of our shell companies owns the landbehind it. That site is clean. Untouched for years, but now? Movement.

“They’re using it as a base.”

My stomach sinks, and my hands clench into fists. Right near the fucking school.

“We have to keep the kids safe.”

“Yeah. It’s a fine line… Right now, no one’s said a word. Everyone’s still going to class like nothing’s wrong. Local police don’t know a fucking thing.” His voice is flat. Cold. “Fucking Irish scum using innocence like a shield.”

They don’t fucking care that the consequences for crime so close to school grounds carry a heavier weight.

I flex my hands, knuckles cracking under the pressure.

“We take them out.”

Rafail nods once. “Quietly. No casualties. No mess. You lead.”

Of course I fucking will. This is the price of coming back to life—of clawing my way out of the fucking bottle and putting my grief on hold. What did he say?Weaponize it.

I roll my shoulders, already calculating the angle of the approach. How many men. What time. What tools. “I’ll handle it.”

He studies me for a beat too long. “You sure I can trust you?”

There’s a lot on the line.

I meet his gaze. “I’m done fucking up, Rafail.”

He nods again, slower this time. He believes me—or at least he wants to. “You didn’t fuck up, brother. You’re grieving. There’s a difference. Not once have you done anything I wouldn’t have allowed. But you’re on the verge of making decisions that you might regret, and I don’t want that for you. Or for me.”

I know. My throat burns.

“I’ll have a file sent to your office. Clean team. Matvei will pull surveillance. Zoya’s on inside recon as usual. You’ve got until Thursday.”

“Thursday?”

---