Page 19 of Tattooed Heart

“I went to my apartment,” I lie, the words bitter on my tongue. “I left some things there...some clothes and stuff. I thought it might help to have them.”

Talia's expression softens slightly. “You should have told me. I would have gone with you. It’s not safe for you to be out there alone.”

“I didn't want to bother you. You've been dealing with so much already.”

Lev's eyes narrow as he studies me with the same intensity he applies to business negotiations and security threats. I meet his gaze steadily, praying he can’t see through me as easily as Dimitri.

After a long moment, he nods. “Next time, tell someone where you're going. I have no doubt Morozov hasn’t forgotten about you.”

The bulk of the camera in my bag seems to increase tenfold. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Talia steps forward, wrapping me in a hug that feels like forgiveness I don’t deserve. “Go rest,” she murmurs. “You look exhausted.”

I hug her back, fighting the urge to confess everything.Later, I tell myself, when I have something concrete to give them. This isn’t just surveillance anymore. I’m in it deeper than I meant to go, but I have the photos and the evidence.

Upstairs in my room, I lock the door and pull out the camera with trembling hands. The photos load onto my laptop one by one, each a potential key to freeing Dimitri. In most photos, the quality is decent despite the low light and distance. Petrov's face is clear. Kiril's, too.

I zoom in on the slim black package. What’s in it? Money? Documents? The answer to why Dimitri is really in prison?

I look at Petrov's smug face and Kiril's dead eyes. These men have taken Dimitri from me. Framed him and locked him away so men like Kiril could get to him anytime.

I’m not turning back. Not now. Not ever.

Outside my window, lightning splits the sky. One bright flash illuminates the estate grounds before plunging back into darkness. Thunder follows, a low rumble like distant artillery mimicking the storm brewing inside me.

I will find the truth and free Dimitri. And I will keep our child safe. God help anyone who stands in my way.

7

DIMITRI

Five more days.

That's how long it's been since the last attempt. Since the previous bastard with a blade tried to carve my name into the floor with blood. He ended up spitting teeth and choking on his own blood. But that didn't mean I won. Not really. Because another attempt always follows.

And this time, the whispers come with a different kind of threat. Not a shiv. Not fists. Poison.

It makes sense. After the last two failed hits, Morozov's dogs won’t want to risk drawing attention with another public brawl. Not when their target keeps walking away while his attackers leave in cuffs or on stretchers.

No, this time, they’ll want me quiet. Gone. No mess and no questions. Just a body slumped over a tray of food.

But I’m not stupid. And I’m not alone.

Mikhail has been keeping close ever since the second fight. He never said why, but he doesn’t need to. He knows what this placeis, and he knows what I am. And that means something in here, more than the tattoos and scars.

He sees the tray before I do, catching the subtle hesitation in the server's hands. He also notices the slight shift in the rotation schedule and the fact that, of all days, today, I’m the only one getting mashed potatoes.

“Don't touch it,” he mutters, his voice low enough that no one else hears.

I don’t flinch. I keep my face blank and my posture loose as I reach for a different tray near the edge, which is meant for the person next in line.

We sit like usual. A corner table with our backs to the wall. Nothing in our hands but cheap forks and sharp instincts.

Across the room, the unintended target takes a bite. Just one.

At first, nothing. Then, the tray clatters. His chair scrapes back hard, his hand gripping the edge of the table as his throat convulses. And then he collapses. He twitches once, twice, then stops moving.

The guards move in like they've been waiting for it. One barks into his radio. Another guard checks for a pulse, and his teeth grind together when he doesn’t find one.

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