Page 69 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

The laugh dies on my lips immediately. It’s Gabriette in what looks like a restroom. There’s a man beside her, his hand pressed against the wall next to her head, and their faces are so close it looks like they’re about to kiss—or just did.

My grip tightens around the phone until it’s a wonder the damn thing doesn’t shatter. Rage floods my system, sharp and scalding. It’s a white-hot blaze that threatens to consume everything, and for a fraction of a second, I let it.

I entertain the notion of storming out of this place, hunting down whoever the hell that man is and tearing his fucking dick off.

But then, as quickly as it came, I locked the fury away. It still simmers under the surface, but it’s a controlled burn now. I’ve spent years mastering my emotions, turning them into tools rather than liabilities. I won’t lose that discipline now, especially not in front of Lee and Lorenzo.

“You alright, Mischa?” Lee asks, her eyes narrowing as she observes my clenched jaw and tightened fists. “You look like someone just spat in your drink.”

Instead of answering, I wave over the waiter. “Bourbon. Neat.”

Lee and Lorenzo exchange a glance but say nothing. As the alcohol arrives and we pour ourselves another glass, my mind races. Someone sent that picture to provoke me, to get a rise out of me. The question is, who? And why?

The deep amber color of the bourbon reminds me of Gabriette’s eyes, and I feel the anger roiling inside me again, mingling with a sharp pang of betrayal. For a moment, I consider drowning the fury and hurt with a quick swig, but even alcohol feels like a traitor tonight.

Lee places a hand on my arm. “Mikhail, if something’s up, you know you can talk to us.”

I look at her, then at Lorenzo, both of whom have been with me through thick and thin, through blood and battle.

“Do you ever feel like you’re a spectator in your own life?” I finally ask, the words bitter on my tongue. “Like you’re watching scenes unfold and wondering how the fuck you even got there?”

Lorenzo’s eyes narrow, concern etched in his features. “You’ve always been the man with the plan, Mischa. If something’s throwing you off balance—”

“It’s like catching a shadow,” I cut in, unable to explain the tightness in my chest, the sense that I’m losing something precious even as I grip it tighter. “Every time you reach out, it’s already moved on.”

Lee, ever perceptive, takes one look at me and seems to understand the depth of what I’m not saying.

“Life has a fucked-up way of testing us, even when we think we’re unbreakable,” she says softly. “But it also has a way of revealing who’s real and who’s not. Just make sure you’re around to see it when the masks come off.”

I nod, her words hitting closer to home than she probably realizes. I leave the bourbon untouched on the table, my appetite for both alcohol and food completely gone. All that’s left is a simmering blend of emotions, waiting for a spark to set it all ablaze.

Gabriette. The name alone sends a tumult of feelings cascading through me. We need to talk, to sort out this tangled mess that’s threatening to choke us both. The walls between us have gotten too high, too fast. And one way or another, they’re coming down. Even if I have to tear them down myself.

“To old times,” Lee offers, holding up her glass.

“To old times,” I echo, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

I throw back the bourbon, letting its fiery trail blaze a path down my throat and displace, if only for a moment, the other fire that’s threatening to break free.

As I set down the empty glass, my resolve hardens. I’ll get to the bottom of this, unravel this newest thread of betrayal in a life that’s been full of them. And when I find the person responsible, they’re going to wish they’d never heard the name Mikhail Baranov.

But for now, I sit back and engage in the conversation with Lee and Lorenzo, who are still blissfully unaware of the storm that’s brewing inside me. After all, in our world, composure is the first line of defense. And until I know more, it’s the one thing I can’t afford to lose.

GABRIETTE

Two nights. Forty-eight hours, and not a damn word from Mikhail. Anxiety gnaws at me like a relentless beast, its teeth sinking deeper with every unanswered call, every failed attempt to track him down.

I’ve tried his cell at least a dozen times, only to be met with that detestable voicemail greeting. Even his business line goes unanswered. It’s like he’s vanished off the face of the Earth.

I call Natalya again, desperate for any morsel of information. “Nat, have you heard from your brother? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, Gabi,” she responds, her voice tinged with worry that mirrors my own. “He hasn’t said anything to me either.”

Alexei and Viktor, my bodyguards, are equally tight-lipped. Anytime I ask, they exchange a glance and mutter, “We’re not permitted to say, ma’am.”

“Not permitted to say what?!” I snap, my voice edging into hysteria. “Is he alive? Is he hurt?”

“We really can’t say, ma’am,” Viktor replies, and the formality of it all makes me want to scream.

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