Page 275 of Heart of Frost and Scars

Holy fucking shit.

It takes every ounce of strength to keep my face empty and my eyes on Rhett.

Wolf is alive.

He’s alive and awake, and the only thing holding him in that chair is a measly rope around his chest and a gun leveled at Frankie’s head.

He must’ve dislodged the IV line in her arm. How long ago? Does she have full mobility? I don’t know how long it takes the drug to leave her system.

My nerves riot, flooding my body with adrenaline.

One wrong move, and Frankie’s dead.

What’s Wolf’s plan?

“After Rurik died…” Rhett’s finger twitches against the trigger. “I returned to Kodiak Island, to that massive, ostentatious mansion on the cliff. I found the flight logs, the blueprints for this cabin, and those photos stuffed in a leather-bound copy of Pushkin’s poems on his bookshelf.” He looks at Monty. “You hadn’t arrived yet to clean out the place. I took the book with the documents inside and followed the trail to Alvis Duncan.”

My pulse sprints as I bump my foot against Monty’s slipper. He’s so engrossed in Rhett’s story that he doesn’t respond.

“I told Alvis I worked for Rurik Strakh.” Rhett sighs. “It was so easy. He thought I was one of Rurik’s henchmen and handed over the flight logs that tracked Denver’s movements. And so it went. Over the years, I collected the logs, learned Denver’s pattern, and tracked him when he flew in to gather supplies.”

Keep talking, you crazy fuck. We need more time, and you’re playing right into our hands.

I nudge Monty’s slipper again, and this time, he nudges back. His gaze remains fixed on Rhett, narrowed on that fucking gun, as he slides his foot from his shoe and inches the slipper toward me.

“I don’t remember you on Kodiak Island.” Monty clears his throat, trying to hide any noise I might make.

It’s not necessary. Silence and stealth are second nature to me.

“My father was Rurik’s accountant for a short time.” Rhett taps his thumb on the butt of the pistol. “He brought me to the estate only once. You weren’t there. But Denver was.”

“You were twelve, and Denver was…” Monty releases a breath. “Seventeen.”

“Yes. While our fathers were holed up in Rurik’s office all night, Denver took me to the wine cellar, let me drink wine with him, and…”

“He raped you,” Monty says bluntly. “And when you were old enough, you hunted him down to exact your revenge.”

“At first, yes. I wanted to kill him. But as I watched him, I became…enamored. I wasn’t that weak twelve-year-old boy anymore. Watching Denver hunt, stalk, and take Kaya and Kodiak without getting caught…” Rhett shakes his head. “He was brilliant. I wanted to be him. I guess you can say I developed a bit of hero worship.”

And look at his hero now.

A pint-sized redhead with a ferocious heart took him down with a lead pipe.

Frankie stares at the ceiling, absorbing the information without moving a muscle. If she has full motion in her face, it would require incredible concentration to keep her expression slack.

I’m so fucking proud of her.

And terrified for her.

We need to keep Rhett talking.

Monty stares at our woman, his jaw grinding. “What’s the meaning behind the Pushkin quotes?”

“When your father paid off my family and moved us out of state, he sent me a gift. An entire collection of books by Pushkin.”

“Rurik was obsessed with the poet.” Monty frowns.

“Yes. The book collection came with a handwritten note. Not signed. Just a quote. He filled a shelf with a small army of books and read and read; but none of it made sense. They were all subject to various cramping limitations: those of the past were outdated.”

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