Page 76 of Konstantin

“I’ve never even seen it.”

I guess I need to get closer to him, secure some way inside, but how?

“So other than his phone, you’re out of options,” she says softly.

“There’s always plan B…”

There’s a pause. A beat too long. Then Riley exhales.

“Em…”

“What? Framing him is a viable plan. He won’t play ball otherwise. If I make him believe that he could be put in prison for that cartel boss’s murder, he’ll give me what I want. He won’t want a war with them either. Once he gives me what I need, whoever actually killed that cop goes away, and so does the evidence I’d have on him.”

“That’s reckless and you know it. That man…he’ll kill you without blinking. There’ll be nothing stopping him once you tell him what you’re up to.”

Sure, she’s right, but it’s a risk I’d be willing to take.

“I don’t care what he does to me, because if I’m dead, you’ll give the bureau everything you need to frame him. If I can’t free Nate, then I’ll make sure that the man who put him there rots for the rest of his life.”

She lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Of course I’d do that for you, ’cause I know if I don’t, you’d haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“You bet your ass I would.” My mouth curls. “I owe you. You’re a good friend.”

“I know. Now go and get me that phone. I’m texting you the program you need to install on your end. When you’re ready, you run it on your cell and the program will do the rest.”

“Okay. Thanks. Speak soon.”

I end the call and toss the phone onto the table with more force than necessary. It skids across the surface, but I barely notice. My feet start moving before I can think, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, breath shallow, pulse thundering in my ears.

The pressure builds in my chest, fury and helplessness coiling so tightly it feels like I might snap in half. The room shrinks around me, the walls pressing closer with every second. I rub my arms and flick the elastic band on my wrist, trying to use the breathing techniques the therapist taught me to help ground myself.

But nothing helps. My mind spirals, needing to center all this pain and frustration.

A familiar ache pulses beneath the faint, silvery lines hidden on my arms.

They burn—not from pain, but from memory. From temptation. The need creeps in like a ghost. A quiet voice whispering that if I just let the blade kiss my skin, the storm inside will finally break.

I know better. But that doesn’t stop me.

I rush into the bathroom, hands trembling as I drop to my knees and yank open the cabinet under the sink. The chaos in my head screams louder with every heartbeat. I dig past bottles and towels until my fingers brush the box filled with disposable razor blade refills—the ones I should’ve tossed, but didn’t.

The light catches the metal as I open the box, glinting like a cruel invitation.

I stare at them, and I swear I can feel my past staring back at me.

None of this is going the way it was supposed to. I wasn’t supposed to lose focus. Wasn’t supposed to forget who I am or crave the way Konstantin’s body feels wrapped around mine like armor I never asked for. But now I miss it like air.

And that terrifies me.

My fingers close around the razor, my palm trembling as I lift it. I lower myself to the cool tile floor, the silence of the room pushing in around me like a scream I can’t release.

I press the dull edge against the faded lines on my arms, those reminders of darker days.

My body tightens. My throat closes.

I swore I was past this. That the girl who needed pain to breathe was long gone.

But here I am again, staring at a blade like it has answers.