Page 138 of Beautiful Cruelty

"Every one of them has connections with the Russian Mafia."

He spreads photos across his desk—buildings with shattered windows and smoke-blackened walls.

"We're looking at what could be the biggest gang war Seattle has seen in decades."

My throat feels like sandpaper. I can't tear my eyes away from the photos.

"And unprompted, you bring up the word 'bratva,' a word that only law enforcement and the Russian Mafia themselves use. Do you really expect me to believe that you learned this from some crime romance novel?" Rutledge's voice drops lower. "Criminal conspiracy, Ms. McKinney, is a felony charge. And the penalty can be as high as multiple decades in prison."

I feel the blood drain from my face. Prison. The word echoes in my head like a death sentence.

"So I'll ask you again. How do you know about the word bratva?"

My mind races as I try to come up with an explanation that won't sound like a lie. The fluorescent lights suddenly feel too bright, making me dizzy. Sweat trickles down my back.

"I..." The word catches in my throat as Captain Rutledge's eyes drill into me. Every excuse I think of sounds hollow, manufactured.

My fingers twist Nathan's ring frantically. The metal band feels like it's choking my finger, a constant reminder of everything I'm trying to hide. I want to rip it off, but I can't move.

"Well, Ms. McKinney?" Rutledge's voice cuts through my panic. "I'm waiting for an answer."

My mouth opens but no words come out. All I can think about is Vadim, about Irina's blood on my hands, about everything that could come crashing down because I let one wrong word slip out of my mouth.

"Ms. McKinney." The door suddenly swings open. "Stop talking."

A man in an impeccable charcoal suit strides in, his presence immediately filling the room.

"Dirty trick, officer." His voice is jovial as he places his briefcase on the desk. "Talking to my client without me present. You are aware that she has rights? And that any information you've coerced from her will be inadmissible in a court of law?"

The tension in the room shifts instantly as Captain Rutledge's expression hardens at the sight of the newcomer.

"Aleksey Sterling-Wright." Rutledge's voice drips with disdain. "Still defending the indefensible, I see."

"Elwood Rutledge. Still trying to interrogate witnesses without proper representation, I see." Aleksey's smile never wavers as he fires back quickly at Captain Rutledge. "Some things never change, do they?"

I look between them, my heart racing. Something in the confident way he carries himself screams of Vadim's influence.

"Ms. McKinney is here voluntarily," Rutledge says, shuffling his papers. "She's not under arrest."

"Really?" Aleksey's smile grows wider, and his voice seems to laugh with every word. "Because before I walked in, I could've sworn I heard you threatening her with criminal conspiracy."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Was I speaking too fast, Elwood?" Aleksey wags his finger. "I'm her lawyer. As an employee of Svoboda, Ms. McKinney is entitled to legal representation through her workplace."

"According to Ms. Riley's statement." Rutledge's eyes narrow. "Ms. McKinney is a caterer."

"Ah yes, the secretary." Aleksey nods. "The same one caughtin flagrante delictowith her boss?ThatMs. Riley?" He shakes his head. "I wouldn't put much stock in anything she has to say, Elwood."

"And when exactly," Rutledge says, his razor-sharp gaze moving between us. "Did this career change occur?"

"I don't see how my client's employment history is relevant to this procedural violation you're committing," Aleksey replies. "So, if you're done interrogating my client—illegally, I might add—I think it's time for both of us to leave."

The two men stare each other down and I sit perfectly still, afraid that even breathing too loudly might shatter whatever delicate balance is keeping this situation from exploding.

My heart pounds as Captain Rutledge leans back in his chair, his sharp eyes never leaving my face.

"Very well." Rutledge's voice carries a note of resignation. "Ms. McKinney, if you wish to tell us anything, anything at all, my door is always open." He slides a business card across his desk. "You can come speak to me directly."

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