Page 91 of Twisted Pact
She nods reluctantly and settles onto the small couch. I spend the next four hours completing the calls I started the other day to former military contractors who specialize in impossible extractions, intelligence operatives who provide real-time surveillance, and weapons suppliers who ask no questions about intended targets.
Each conversation requires careful negotiation. These men don’t work for money alone. They work for professionals who understand discretion and the cost of failure. Convincing them to take this job requires demonstrating that I’ve thought through every contingency.
“Tell me the plan,” Mila says when I finish the last call.
“Three teams. One creates a distraction at the main entrance while another hits the rear access point. Meanwhile, a third team enters through the drainage system beneath the building.”
“Which team do you lead?”
“The drainage team. The most dangerous approach, but also the least anticipated.”
“What about me?”
“You stay here. Safe. Protected.”
Her face hardens. “That’s not acceptable.”
“It’s not negotiable.”
“I’m not going to hide while you risk your life to clean up my family’s problems.”
“Your family’s problems became mine the moment you got pregnant.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to exclude me from decisions about Papa’s life.”
I walk to the concrete wall and press my palm against the cold surface. “I can’t focus on the mission if I’m worried about protecting you.”
“Then don’t protect me. Trust me to take care of myself.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because losing you would destroy me, and knowing you’re in danger would compromise every decision I make.”
The honesty surprises us both. I’ve been talking around my feelings for weeks, using words like “commitment” and “responsibility” to describe something more fundamental.
The truth is simpler and more terrifying than strategic considerations.
I love her. In ways that make tactical thinking irrelevant and emotional decision-making inevitable.
“Alexei…” she starts.
“Don’t say anything. Just accept that keeping you safe is more important to me than anything else.”
I’ve just admitted that I would prioritize her safety over her father’s life, and that my priorities have shifted enough that family loyalty means protecting her instead of honoring alliances.
Mila opens her mouth to respond, then closes it again. “This morning feels like a week ago,” she declares with a sigh.
“What do you mean?”
She sits on the edge of the couch. “This morning, I was worried about whether to accept your proposal. Whether I could trust you. Whether this baby would have a stable family. Now, my father’s been kidnapped, and you’re planning something that could get you killed, and the reason behind why we need to get married seems so fucking trivial.”
I sit beside her. “Those reasons are still valid.”
“Right now, the only thing I can think about is that I might lose both of you in the same day.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
