Page 119 of Savage Lies
Tomorrow, we’ll start planning how to eliminate Viktor’s network. Tomorrow, we’ll face the reality of building something real out of the wreckage of lies and manipulation.
But tonight, we’re just two people who decided that whatever brought us together was worth fighting for.
He kisses the top of my head, and I drift toward sleep, feeling safer than I have since this nightmare started.
Outside, Viktor is probably planning his next move, but tomorrow, we’ll become hunters instead of prey.
34
Dmitri
Dmitri
Watching Katya curse in three languages while wrestling pancakes one-handed turns me on.
She’s pale, bandaged, pissed off… and still trying to cook for me like nothing happened. I should make her sit down. Instead, I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Need help?” I ask from my position at the kitchen island, where I’m checking emails.
“I’ve got it,” she insists, then drops half a pancake on the floor. “Fuck.”
Anya looks up from her laptop, where she’s been monitoring FSB communications for the past hour. She pushes her glasses up her nose and smirks. “Maybe stick to cereal until your shoulder heals.”
“Cereal is for people who give up easily.”
“Fair enough, but burning down the kitchen won’t help anyone,” I point out with a chuckle.
Katya gives me a look that could melt steel before attempting another flip. This time, she keeps the pancake in the pan, though it looks more like abstract art than breakfast food.
“Victory,” she declares before raising the spatula like a trophy.
“If you say so.”
The normalcy of this moment feels surreal after everything we’ve been through. Katya is making breakfast. Anya is running intelligence operations from the kitchen table. I am pretending to care about profit margins when all I want is to keep the two most important women in my life safe.
It’s almost domestic enough to make me forget we’re at war with a network of rogue intelligence operatives.
“Any updates on Viktor’s remaining assets?” I ask Anya.
She scrolls through encrypted messages, and her brows pinch together in concentration. “Three confirmed operatives still active, plus an unknown number of criminal contacts. They’ve gone dark since Pavel’s death, but that probably means they’re regrouping.”
“Timeline for next move?”
“Days, not weeks. After we went through Pavel’s phone yesterday and found those two safe house locations, hitting them last night sent a clear message. Viktor’s remaining operatives know we’re hunting them now, which means they’ll either go for a quick strike or disappear for a while and pop up later.”
The safe house raids were swift and decisive. Using Pavel’s encrypted contacts, Anya identified Viktor’s backup operations. We struck both locations—one in the industrial district, and another near the docks—before the network could relocate their assets.
When you start dismantling an organization’s infrastructure instead of defending yourself, it signals that you’ve moved from reactive to offensive operations.
Katya slides a plate of mangled pancakes in front of me with a flourish. “Eat. You need to keep your strength up for whatever comes next.”
“These look like they’ve been through a war,” I grumble.
“So have we. Consider it thematic consistency.” She wipes flour from her cheek with the back of her hand.
I take a bite and nearly choke on what might be the saltiest pancake in Moscow’s history. “Delicious.”
“Liar,” she responds with a snicker.
