Page 208 of Silenced

“Perhaps, but I have ways of making you comply.”

That has my brows arching. “Ways?”

“Jeremy Beech.”

Suddenly, this woman stops being my future mother-in-law and she becomes a threat.

Despite the situation, I grin at her. Slowly.

If she knows what an Oskal is, then I’m sure she also knows she’s looking at the human version of one.

“It’s been a long time since I heard that name,” I drawl.

“Twelve years?” she prods. “Twelve years since you killed a US senator and never got arrested for it.”

That job was how I became Brigadier.

Slowly, I nod. “And we have an agreement. We didn’t need it, but I understand that you’ve already been assured and lied to by her ex-husband that she was safe with him.”

Her eyes narrow even further. “I’m glad we understand each other. After I die, I’ll leave the evidence with her so that she can escape if she wants.”

“That’s only fair.” It’ll never be necessary, but Icanempathize.

I also understand that Dema, with her fussy kitchen overdecorated with clashing florals and pig ornaments dotted on every surface, is not to be underestimated.

“How did you know about Beech?”

“When those men showed up, I started snooping through my husband’s things.”

His things?

Spying my confusion, she gets to her feet. “Come with me.” Hesitating, she says, “I don’t trust the Bratva.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But you’re not the Bratva anymore, are you?”

I catch her gaze with my own. “I’m not, but you could trust me anyway. Cassiopeia will only know safety as my woman.”

“That’s a promise youcan’tkeep. Not in this world you live in.” She startles me by patting my shoulder. “But this old heart appreciates the reassurance. Come with me. It’s worth it.”

Still studying her,still, I’ll admit, impressed, I follow her as she leads me to a door off the kitchen.

As we head toward a basement I didn’t realize she had, I find there’s another door with a bare lightbulb swinging above it.

“You asked me how Peshnya kept us safe,” she says flatly.

It isn’t the first time she’s called him that, but it’s the first time I feel comfortable enough with her to ask, “You actually called him Peshnya?” Cassiopeia had told me as much but hearing it is rather surreal.

She hitches a shoulder. “It became a term of endearment.”

“You know what it means?”

Her grin is cold. “Ice pick. His weapon of choice.”

My eyes widen.

Blyad, it’s no wonder my woman turns into an Oskalaround me—it truly is in her bones.

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