Page 17 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

So, with a sigh, I duck back inside the motel room and get to work.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, I’m a different person.

For starters, I’ve gone from brunette to blonde. The shirt I wore for the bleaching is a disaster, but my hair actually looks okay.

After the first bleach, my hair was as yellow as straw. So, I went in with a thick layer of bleach, got it down to a warm white color, and then hit it with a toner.

The whole time, all I can think about is when Brigitte and I bleached her hair a few years ago. We spent hours watching video tutorials online, but her hair still turned green. We ended up dying it turquoise just to cover the mistake.

It would be a fond, silly memory with my best friend… if said best friend hadn’t turned out to be a backstabbing traitor I was forced to kill to save my son.

I’ve had nightmares of tightening the rope around Brigitte’s neck. Of the way she gasped and gulped for air.

I know I did the right thing, but that doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Thankfully, even if the memories hurt, I learned a lot from Brigitte’s botched dye job, so my hair turns out pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.

After a deep conditioning treatment, I blow dry and style my hair, running a circular brush through it to give me loose, breezy waves. Then I do my makeup for the first time in weeks.

I took a trip to the drug store this morning to replenish my supplies, so I can do an entire glam look. Foundation, concealer, setting powder, contour, blush, fake lashes, and glittery eyeshadow.

I feel like a Barbie doll, but when I slip into the slinky silver dress I also picked up at a nearby boutique, I end up looking more like a high-class escort.

It’s the first time I’ve seen myself done up in a long time. Certainly since Lukas was born.

And it’s… nice, actually.

I feel sexy and powerful, ready to take on anything the casino has to throw at me.

The first step of the plan Dima described sounded simple enough.Go into the casino and get a look around. How hard could that be?

It’s what’s at stake that’s got me shuddering every time I think about it.

A man will die eventually because of what I do tonight. I’ll be responsible for that. For as long as I live, his blood will be on my hands.

Just like Tommy’s.

Just like Brigitte’s.

The Hippocratic Oath flashes across my mind. Vets don’t usually take it, but we learned about it in my classes at Cornell. The main tenet:First, do no harm.

Is that what I’m doing here?

Is that what I’ve done these last few months?

Not by a long shot. I’m becoming a person I never wanted to be. I’m tumbling head over heels into a fate I fought like hell to escape.

But I don’t have a choice. I have to do this so my son can have a better life than I’ve had. So Ernestine and June can find the safety and freedom we deserve.

I lift up my chin and look at myself in the mirror. “You can do this, Arya,” I whisper fiercely.

I wish I believed what my reflection is saying. And, for a moment, I do. The girl looking back at me in the mirror is strong. Powerful. Confident.

But when I walk out of the motel room and see Dima standing outside of his car, waiting for me, my confidence grows shaky.

It’s the first time he’s seen me like this. Around him, I’ve always been in sweatpants or covered in blood or days without a shower. He’s only ever seen me at my worst.

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