Page 66 of Bound By Revenge

After calling A.J. and washing up, I collapsed into bed, clinging to the slim hope that the old saying might hold true—that everything really would look better in the morning.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

If only I could go back in time and do things differently.

Not just because last night was a complete disaster—but because the moment itself had been extraordinary.

Nik has kept me at arm’s length since the truth about our identities came out, but something cracked in him last night. For the first time, he showed me a glimpse of vulnerability.

He let me in—just a sliver—and I ruined it.

Maybe not everything looks better in the morning, but I believe in another saying: where there’s a will, there’s a way. And I’m more than willing to clean up my mess.

Right on cue, my phone pings. It’s a text from A.J.

Last night, when I called her looking for a shoulder to cry on, she mentioned there was still nothing but radio silence from thestronzo.

I told her about the museum gala’s surveillance feeds and how our little heist ruined the internal footage. I asked her to work her magic, and, as always, she promised to try. Now, just hours later, her message is unexpected but welcome.

Couldn’t sleep last night. Maybe you're right about my Diet Coke “addiction,” as you love to call it. Still working on your surveillance videos, but thought I’d share what I’ve got so far.

A video follows the text.

I click on it, watching as the footage loads. A moment later, I recognize the scene: the metal detectors at the museum entrance. Before I forget, I quickly reply.

You’re the best! I owe you one.

The scent of freshly baked muffins wafts in as I hit send. My stomach grumbles, and I can’t resist heading to the kitchen. Grabbing a plate, I pile on a few muffins and wander the penthouse, hoping to find Dmitri. I could use some insight into Nik’s mood this morning—and maybe a little advice. But he's nowhere to be found.

With a sigh, I head to Nik’s office. For all I know, he might not even be home. Still, it’s worth a try.

The door is closed, so I knock. Barging in unannounced doesn’t seem like the best idea, especially after last night.

“Come in,” his voice calls after a beat.

I push the door open hesitantly, stepping inside. Nik sits behind his desk, bent over a stack of papers with a pen in his lefthand. He’s wearing a royal blue sweater, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His other hand props up his head, and he doesn’t look up when I enter.

“You’re left-handed,” I blurt out dumbly.

He finally looks up from his work, his expression making it clear I’m not exactly welcome.“What do you want?” he asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“I come bearing a peace offering.” I force a smile, even though I feel far less confident than usual.

“Muffins. From my own kitchen. Be still, my heart,” he deadpans, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Not exactly,” I reply, ignoring the sting. “I mean, food is usually the way to a man’s heart, right? But I brought the muffins because I haven’t eaten yet, and I figured maybe you haven’t either. The real peace offering is this.” I pull my phone from my pocket and wave it.

Nik arches an eyebrow and sets his pen down. “I’m listening.”

I take a breath and explain how I’d asked A.J. last night to dig into the museum’s security feeds, hoping she could recover some of the footage scrambled by the SBU.

“She got back to me this morning,” I say. “She hasn’t salvaged all of it—not yet—but she sent me what she’s got so far. Want to see? I can probably air-cast it to your TV.

Without a word, Nik pushes back his chair and heads for the couch in front of the TV, gesturing for me to follow.

I cast A.J.’s video onto the screen and sit beside him.

“Is this the front entrance?” Nik asks, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies the footage.

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