Page 68 of Toxic Salvation
“That won’t be necessary.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll do it myself.”
We stop outside my office. I can hear drawers slamming, papers rustling, the sound of someone searching desperately for answers I’ve been keeping from her.
“Do you have a plan?” Pavel asks. “She seems pretty upset.”
“I have a plan.” I look my brother in the eye. “Bring down the firewall.”
Pavel’s mouth falls open. Osip chokes on nothing.
“Excuse me,” Osip sputters. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“You’re talking about classified information,” Pavel hisses. “Intel that could blow up everything if it gets out.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why would you expose it?” Osip presses. “Especially to someone who’s clearly losing it right now?”
“She’s losing it because she doesn’t know the truth. She needs answers—and I’m going to give them to her.”
“Can she handle it?”
“I don’t know. But she needs to stop feeling helpless.”
Pavel grabs my shoulder. “You know what’s on that computer. She could destroy everything.”
“She doesn’t want to destroy us. She wants to understand us.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’m wrong and I’ll deal with the consequences. But right now, I think I can trust her.”
“You’re asking all of us to trust her, too.”
“Maybe that’s what it takes to get her to trust us back.”
“Are you sure that’s why you’re doing this?” Sweat drips down Osip’s forehead. “Are you sure this isn’t just some desperate move to win her over?”
All I can do is shrug. “I can’t deny that might be part of it.”
“Kovan!” Osip’s voice breaks. “If this goes wrong, we could end up in prison. Luka could end up back with Ihor and Yana.”
“I know the risks.”
“How can you be so certain about this?”
I listen to the sounds coming from my office—Vesper searching for proof of who I really am, fighting for answers I should have given her months ago.
“Because I think she loves me back.”
25
VESPER
I can hear them outside the door.
Whispering. Plotting. Trying to figure out how to drag me out of Kovan’s office without causing an international incident.
Maybe they’ll call the fire department. Maybe they’ll slip something under the door—food, water, a written apology from their boss for being a lying bastard. Maybe they’ll just wait me out until I get hungry enough to surrender.
