Page 77 of Obsessive Vows

My voice barely penetrates the oppressive silence of the safe house as I pace its perimeter. Each measured step across cold concrete amplifies the frustration burning through my veins. I can still see the vulnerability in Anastasia's eyes just before the security breach—a rare crack in her perfect mask that promised revelation.

"Something important enough to break protocol. To risk everything."

Anton watches from the monitoring station, his expression carefully blank despite the tension vibrating between us. The blue glow from multiple screens casts his face in spectral light, highlighting the concerned furrow between his brows he can't quite control.

"Her communications through the Swiss proxy servers show a consistent pattern," he offers cautiously. "The emotional indicators during those calls suggest?—"

"I know what they suggest." My voice slices through his analysis, the combat edge not yet fully sheathed after the firefight at the Baranov estate. My fingers flex unconsciously, muscle memory still processing the threat elimination. "Seventeen encrypted calls. Each three to four minutes. All generating the same physical response."

I stop before the primary monitor, studying the biometric data our surveillance had captured. Elevated heart rate. Dilated pupils. Micro-expressions of fierce protectiveness bleeding through her diplomatic training.

"Yet you terminated surveillance before intercepting content," Anton observes without judgment, though the implication hangs between us like smoke.Operational discipline compromised by personal involvement.

My hand drifts unconsciously to the scar along my ribs where her fingers had traced constellations in Paris darkness. Where they'd touched again at the estate before alarms shattered our connection, before she could speak the words clearly forming behind those dark eyes.

"The Petrov infiltration team reset priorities." The justification sounds hollow even to my ears. "Extraction protocols took precedence."

"And now?" Anton's question carries weight beyond its simplicity. Not just assessment but recognition of the dangerous territory we've entered. Personal considerations threatening the mission I have maintained through years of vengeful focus.

Eight hours since I've seen Anastasia. Eight hours of replaying her unfinished confession:"Something I should have told you the moment we reconnected. Something that changes everything about our arrangement."

I redirect my thoughts to immediate security concerns, professional focus dulling the ache of interrupted revelation. "The Petrov team targeted us specifically. The timing suggests intelligence beyond a spontaneous encounter."

"Source?" Anton follows my lead, allowing the tactical shift.

"Nikolai mentioned Switzerland during the engagement celebration." Memory flashes to his predatory interest in Anastasia, his pointed reference to her "dedicated approach to independent studies." "Something about her Geneva activities triggered specific focus beyond standard alliance considerations."

Anton pulls up the surveillance data compiled throughout our operation. "All secure calls routed through the same Geneva proxy servers."

I study the data with focus that barely masks my fixation. The timestamps. Duration patterns. Encryption beyond Bratva standards—a security system designed for intelligence worth protecting with one's life.

"Her study abroad program." The connection forms with sudden clarity, pieces aligning in a pattern I should have recognized earlier. "Nine months in Geneva for alleged diplomatic training."

"The timeline matches increased security measures," Anton confirms, highlighting corresponding data points. "First encrypted communication established immediately after her return to the Markov estate."

“And before?” I ask.

“Nothing. If she made private calls, they were not tied to her in any way I could trace.”

Nine months in Switzerland. Communications established shortly after arrival home and maintained with religious dedication. Security beyond standard Bratva protocols.

The timing nags at me, triggering a connection I've deliberately avoided articulating. Nine months she spent away from her father after Paris. After our night together.

"Access the database on her educational credentials." The command emerges sharper than intended, urgency breaking through my professional mask. "Verify actual attendance at the diplomatic academy. Cross-reference with Swiss medical facilities."

Anton's expression shifts slightly, something like realization forming behind his eyes. "You suspect her diplomatic training served as cover."

Not a question but assessment. One that approaches territory I've avoided confronting directly despite my escalating surveillance. Despite my fixation on her secure communications that transcends operational necessity.

"Full spectrum analysis on all available intelligence regarding her time in Switzerland," I order, maintaining outward composure while my mind races through implications I cannot fully process.

"That will require enhanced access to secure medical databases," Anton observes. "Beyond standard intelligence parameters."

"Do whatever is necessary." My tone leaves no room for discussion. "I need the complete picture."

The order—crossing ethical boundaries I've maintained throughout my infiltration of Markov's organization—should trigger reassessment. Instead, it feels like necessary escalation of an increasingly personal mission.

As Anton initiates specialized access protocols, I retreat to the secondary monitoring station where partial decryption of Anastasia's communications remains ongoing. Our technology—state-of-the-art intelligence systems acquired through black market channels—has managed to recover fragments of her secure calls.

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