Page 19 of The Devil's Thorn
“Make sure it’s not mine.”
My lips parted slightly.
Not because she was clever.
Because she didn’t flinch.
That answer wasn’t rehearsed. It was natural. Like she didn’t need to think about how to protect herself—shewasprotection. Born from fire. Sharpened into instinct.
And that name…
Natasha Orlova.
Too perfect. Too polished. The kind of name that hides blood behind satin gloves.
I didn’t know her. I was sure of it. I would’ve remembered a face like that—those eyes that didn’t ask for permission. That voice, low and steady, like she could kill you with it and apologize afterward.
I rewound the feed, watched her enter again.
Then again.
Then paused on the frame where she tilted her head slightly, just before answering Nikolai’s final question.
“You want me to have her watched?” Nikolai asked.
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because in that moment, for the first time in a long time, I felt something shift—small, quiet, but sharp enough to be dangerous.
She didn’t walk in like prey.
She walked in like she had teeth.
But that wasn’t what intrigued me.
What intrigued me was that Iwanted to know what she looked like when she smiled.
And that was a problem.
I stood slowly, turning from the screen.
“She’s hiding something.”
Nikolai didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. We both knew what silence meant in this room.
I moved to the sideboard near the window, poured myself a drink I didn’t really want, and stared down at the amber swirl in the glass. Everything about her was too smooth. Too deliberate. But not in the way people lie to survive.
No. This was something else.
“Find out who she is,” I said.
Nikolai crossed his arms. “You think she’s placed?”
“If she is, someone trained her well. And if she’s not…” I took a sip, the burn dull against my throat. “Then I want to know why a girl like that walks intomyworld without flinching.”
He nodded once. “I’ll run it.”
“And run it quiet. I want everything—schools, work history, financials, family. Anyone she talks to. Where she sleeps. What time she leaves. How often she looks over her shoulder.”
