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“Yuliya,” Jericho said, his lips pursed. “We’re making a change. You will be taking command and control of this mission in my stead.”

“What?” Yuliya lurched forward in her seat.

“I’ll be taking your place.

“That is an abuse of power, isoveli! ”

“Not at all,” Jericho said with a cool expression. “We have talked a while about a change in leadership, as I and some other old men start stepping down. This will be good training for you to take my place.”

Yuliya scowled at him, leaning back to grumble, “I did not say I would take your place.”

“What was that?” Jericho said, lifting a single brow.

“Nothing,” she said, shutting her mouth.

Jericho looked at her for a few more seconds, just to make sure that she had closed off her protests, before he continued.

“Command and control,” Jericho stated, “will go from Yuliya, to Blink, then to me. If all three of us are incapacitated or fall, then Picasso will begin a withdrawal.”

He slammed the papers in front of him closed.

He came to his feet, looked at the audience, his massive arms crossed over his chest.

“Make no mistake, command’s main goal will be to support the main effort.” He grumbled something, then turned to Eoghan and Blink by his side, “That is that we, Paradigm, will support the Irish efforts above everything else.”

He stepped back, and I swear, every spine in the room straightened in his presence.

The snide, sneering expression was completely gone, and I finally got to meet the man who had led this organization for over a decade. He was imposing. His voice allowed no room for disagreement, and even his sister listened to every word.

But all I could see was a family portrait in my mind—me, Eoghan, and Cillian. But then Cillian grew, and Eoghan vanished. One more person disappearing in front of my eyes.

I looked at Eoghan, his closed expression, adopting the same mask of leadership that Jericho had.

He had made his decision, and it was one that risked leaving me… a widow.

So that had been the purpose of his withdrawal.

My mind fed on that like rot on a corpse. It festered, until it was overwhelming. By the time the final brief was over, and we were dismissed to execute the mission, my love had grown to something more akin to scorn.

“Love?” Eoghan asked when all the bodies began to shuffle out of the room.

He moved his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and I slapped it away.

His eyes widened for a moment, then settled back into a fake neutrality.

“How could you?” I whispered. “How could you not even tell me?”

His jaw clenched, but then relaxed as if he was taking every effort to remain calm.

But his true nature won out in the end when his hand shot out, grabbing me by the throat, pulling me to my feet. He slammed our lips together, kissing me deep and hard before ending it just as abruptly.

“Never doubt, Wife , that what I do, I do for my family.” He kissed me again, but it was a possessive, commanding kiss that told me that there would be no reconciliation, no apology, no means to make this right. “For you, and for Cillian.”

“I hate you,” I said through gritted teeth.

I meant every word. I hated that he brought me back here, just to leave me alone again. I hated that he had been saying goodbye without saying it. I hated that he made love to me so passionately, and made me believe that everything would be alright, only to rip it all away again.

“Well,” he said in a small sigh, letting me go so fast that I almost stumbled. “That will probably serve you well, moving forward.”

Then he walked away, without a trace of remorse or apprehension. Without a single backward glance.

I stood there, frozen, livid, confused. I was trying to catch my breath, and hoping to stop breathing all at the same time because I did not like the pain in my heart.

I slumped back in the chair, swallowing my tears. It was not the time.

A chair scraped, and I looked up to see Jericho and Blink taking a seat around me.

“I don’t know you well,” Jericho said, with a somber expression. “But your man there might die in a few hours.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to say something snide in return. He was still my boss, after all.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Picasso,” Blink said without preamble.

“Fuck you.” I wanted my words to come out with venom, but it just sounded sad.

“Fuck me? Fuck you!” His voice was an angry whisper, his eyes darting to Eoghan, who was sitting, unmoved from his seat.

His black eyes landed on the two of us, and he stared for a long moment.

“Forget the fucking fact that you spent the last few minutes telling us you’d become the queen of the Mafia so that we could get these fuckers in line,” he said, leaning in, his blank expression not matching the harshness of his reprimand.

“But you actually love that son of a bitch, and you know what? I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but he’d clearly move heaven and earth for you . ”

I flinched at his words, not because they were particularly cruel, but because it was so unexpected from a man like Blink that it made an impression.

“Christ, I can’t believe it, but you know what?

The guy loves you, and he’d change himself inside out for you.

That’s why he’s doing this. The guy is literally putting his life on the line to keep you safe, and taking full responsibility as a partner and father, and you’re treating him like garbage. ”

He shook his head, stepping away from me.

“Cool your jets, and realize that some of us would be over the moon if the person we loved showed that level of dedication.”

He was talking about Astrid. His woman.

The one who had walked away, in his mind. The one who’d stabbed him in the back. The one he still adored with all his being. A confession I had earned the first time I shot out of a moving vehicle, and hit my target.

“Bollocks,” Blink said, his placid features breaking into a frown. He looked away from me, his eyes glassy. He shook his head, and I knew he wasn’t thinking about me anymore. He was talking about something else entirely.

“Bollocks,” he said again. Then he walked away.

Well, that cooled me quicker than an ice bucket over the head.

What the fuck was I doing?