Point taken.
"Lead the way, Ghost."
We slipped through the window and onto the fire escape. The metal is cold against my palms as we descend into the alley behind my building. Sirens wail in the distance, getting closer. Multiple agencies, from the sound of it. NYPD, federal response teams, probably paramedics.
All coming to investigate the murder of a supposedly dirty FBI agent.
At street level, a black Bentley waits with its engine running. Mikhail opens the passenger door for me like this is a date instead of an escape from an assassination attempt.
"Get in."
I hesitate for exactly one second. Getting in that car means crossing a line I can never uncross. It means choosing a different side than the one I've been on for most of my life so far.
It means trusting a killer more than I trust my own people.
And admitting that everything you thought you knew about right and wrong might be completely backward.
But Harrison just tried to have me murdered in my own apartment. My own people think I'm a traitor. And the manholding the car door for me is the only person who seems to know what's really happening.
Better the devil you know...
I get in the car.
As we pull away from the scene, I watch my building disappear in the rearview mirror. Every light in every window represents someone's normal life continuing while mine falls apart completely.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Somewhere safe."
"Safe is relative when you're a fugitive riding with the most wanted criminal in New York."
"You're not a fugitive yet," Mikhail says, navigating through traffic with the kind of casual skill that suggests he's done this before. "Give it twelve hours. Once Harrison spins tonight's events, you'll be wanted for conspiracy, treason, and probably terrorism."
Terrorism.The word sits in my stomach like a stone. Once that label gets attached to your federal record, you don't come back from it. Careers end. Lives disappear. People find themselves in black sites that don't officially exist.
"How long have you known?" I ask. "About Harrison?"
"Since the warehouse fire. I spent hours investigating after that night, cross-referencing personnel files with the witness protection leaks. Harrison's name kept surfacing." He glances at me, and even in the dim light from streetlamps, I can see something fierce and protective in his dark eyes. "I've been watching you since then, Mariana. Making sure you stayed safe while you built your case. Tonight was supposed to be the end of that protection."
He's been watching me.For months. Keeping me safe while I hunted him. The irony would be funny if it wasn't so twisted.
"The warehouse fire. You were there because—"
"Because someone leaked your team's operation. Someone wanted federal agents dead and wanted it to look like Ghost's work. I couldn't let that happen."
He saved my life twice now.
"Still… Why?" The question that's been burning in my chest since the warehouse finally finds its way out. "Why protect me? Why risk exposure?"
Mikhail is quiet for so long I think he's not going to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer than I've ever heard it.
"Because you're hunting the wrong ghost, little wolf. And because the right one..." He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. "The right one has become rather invested in keeping you alive."
Invested in keeping you alive.
The words settle in my chest like warm honey, spreading heat through places that have been cold for longer than I want to admit. This is dangerous territory. Letting myself feel something for him beyond professional interest.
Beyond the basic gratitude to someone who's saved your life twice.