Page 140 of The Devil's Thorn
I knew that already, didn’t I?
“Pack light,” he adds, turning for the door. “We’ll be gone five days. I’ll send Kellan the location. Be there by ten.”
Be there by ten.
Like it’s nothing. Like it’s a goddamn brunch.
I don’t move. “You could say please.”
He glances over his shoulder. “And you could pretend to like following orders.”
Before I can answer, he’s gone.
I stand slowly, dagger still in my hand, and walk to the door. I twist the lock tight after he disappears down the hallway, the sound final and sharp.
Then I move to the windows—floor-to-ceiling glass that looks over the glittering city, its lights like stars that fell too hard and cracked on pavement.
I press my palm to the glass and breathe.
Colombia. I’m going to Colombia.With him.
I should’ve said no. But I didn’t.
Because a part of me—maybe the part that’s been sleeping under the weight of every lie I’ve been told—wants to get closer to him. Not because I trust him. Not even because I believe him.
But because I don’t.
He looked at the photo in that locket and said he didn’t know them. He said it like it was the truth. Steady. Calm. Unbothered.
But I’ve spent years collecting every breadcrumb that ever led back to my parents’ murder. Letters. Paper trails. Names whispered in back alleys and burned before dawn.
Too many signs pointed to him. To the Bratva. To the Romanovs.
So no—I don’t believe him. Not fully. Not yet.
But I don’t need to. Because I’m not following him to Colombia to serve. I’m going there to hunt.
And if he’s the monster at the center of it all?
Then I’ll smile while I drive the dagger through his heart.
The same way he smiled when he handed it back.
CHAPTER 10
ISABELLA
Istood in the middle of my living room, the early morning light spilling in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. My suitcase stood zipped beside the couch, another one by the door. Kellan and Ash were in the kitchen, quietly drinking coffee and going over something on Ash’s phone, but I wasn’t paying much attention.
My mind was elsewhere.
I’d already said goodbye to Anna. I visited her last night. She’d tried to act unfazed, but I could see it in her eyes. Worry, tension… the kind only a woman like her could bury beneath practiced smiles and soft reassurances.
“Colombia is dangerous,”she’d said as she poured me tea I never drank.
“So am I,”I’d answered, watching her face for any flicker. She gave me none.
I didn’t tell her much, of course. Just that I was leaving for a job. She didn’t ask more. Anna never did when she knew I wouldn’t give her answers.
