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3

STAR

We were driving back to the city when a cell rang. At first, I thought it was the phone D had given me before we split up, the one that Munoz had been carrying at the time of his death, but it wasn’t—it was mine.

Conor was behind the wheel this time, D was with Troy and Lyra—both to make sure they didn’t run off or get lost on their way to Hell’s Kitchen—and I was in the passenger seat, mostly staring at my new ring until that was interrupted by the call.

“Private number,” I told Conor.

“When Kuznetsov called me, it was down as that.”

I grunted and hit accept. “Hello?”

“Star,” he greeted. “You have news?”

My lips quirked because I knew what he was getting at. “You can’t expect to work with a spy and not have them evade your guards.”

He clucked his tongue. “I told them to let you go at the airport?—”

“I just bet you did,” I scoffed. “Anyway, we’re not in prison, Grandfather . We’re free to do whatever we want, and right now, our goals align so you know anything that goes down is something that you’ll agree with.”

“Our goals might align, but I doubt our methods do.”

“Don’t act innocent when your people are the ones holding Reinier in a shipping container in the Catskills.” Never mind the fact he wanted Troy dead to avenge his son. “You can’t effect change without getting your hands dirty.”

“One day,” Kuznetsov murmured, his tone wistful, “I wonder if you’ll utter that word without contempt.”

My brow furrowed. “Which word?”

Conor snorted. “ Grandfather .”

“Oh. I—” The words ‘wouldn’t count on it’ were on the tip of my tongue yet there was no denying he had been helpful in some things, and it wasn’t that I thought I’d ever use the label kindly, but rubbing salt into the wound was only my style when I was torturing someone.

Kuznetsov cleared his throat. “Never mind. Where are you?”

“I’m certain you have a trace on our SUV,” Conor drawled. “If you’re trying to have an open and honest relationship with Star, Anton, then try to be open and honest .”

Silence on his end.

On mine, my lips twitched at Conor’s retort.

Conor was a family man—it was in his bones. I knew he’d support my grandfather just because he wanted it to be beneficial for me.

Still, nothing in this life came for free, and I was definitely not free and most certainly not cheap.

“Very well.” Kuznetsov sighed. “Why are you in Stamford?”

“Because we had to collect someone.”

“Someone being…?”

My jaw worked as I rumbled, “Nothing is ever as facile as we believe it to be, Kuznetsov.”

“No, it isn’t. But I didn’t take you for a professor in philosophy, Star. You have found Aleks’ killer, I assume, and you know them?”

“I know that her hands were tied.”

Once again, silence sounded down the line, but this time, it was loaded.

“Jorgmundgander,” he drawled eventually.

“Yes.”

“And you know her?”

“She’s a massive pain in the ass, but I do know her, and she’s good people.”

“Jorgmundgander only recruited criminals.”

“Most people in the life are half-criminal. Depends on who you ask. You speak with the average citizen, me going around killing people shouldn’t be legal, yet here we are.”

He grunted. “What happened?”

“It took uncovering the details of Belyaev’s death to learn the truth about your son’s. Through Belyaev’s, the operatives in question told us who worked on Aleks’ and we were able to track her down.

“The sniper in question lived in Stamford. We approached her because we had intel that suggested Lyra escaped her father’s car after the crash and then waded into traffic. We wanted to know if she had any idea where the child had gone.”

“She wasn’t in the system?”

“The source of our intel claimed that Jorgmundgander tried to clean house and uncovered nothing.”

“They wanted the child dead?” A throb of anger rippled through his words. A throb that gave me hope for the next phase in our plan.

“They did,” I confirmed.

A rumble of Russian was snarled into my ear, one that spoke of outrage and grief and disgust.

“No better than animals. Lives mean nothing to the Sparrows. They never have. That is why they are at odds with us?—”

Because I didn’t need to hear the Union’s manifesto, I interrupted, “Jorgmundgander isn’t as neutral as you thought.”

“No, it would appear not if the Sparrows are using them as a personal army.”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor when you are already attempting to deny me justice in the form of my son’s killer’s death?”

My mouth tightened. “This is a form of vengeance. A form of justice.”

“What is?”

“Jorgmundgander needs to be shut down.”

“On this, we can agree. I will see that it is.”

Conor’s head whipped to the side and the look he sent me was of pure gratitude.

He knew why I’d done it. Not because of justice. Not even for Kuznetsov’s vengeance. But for Eoghan.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, the rawness in his eyes making me duck my head away while resting my hand on his lap so our fingers could knot together.

I was coming to realize that that was our thing.

We didn’t just bridge a connection with one another, we tied ourselves together.

“How difficult will it be to unravel the snakes?”

“You can leave it with me,” he said grimly. “What of Lyra? Did meeting with the operative in Stamford shed any light on her location?”

There were many things I could have said, many lies I could have told him, but instead of BS, I muttered, “I’ve met her.”

“She lives?” he rasped, his voice loaded with a hope that was borderline painful to hear.

“She’s very small, very scared, and very shy.”

“Where is she?”

“She lives with the Jorgmundgander operative who treats her as if Lyra is her own flesh and blood.”

Kuznetsov demanded, “She is loved?”

I thought about how Troy was acidic and brisk, introverted, and a social misfit. Then, I pictured how Lyra clung to her as if they were symbiotes.

The desperate bond that flared to life between them once they knew they were no longer in any danger from the Sparrows was tangible.

Never mind the fact that my old soldier buddy had a safe room for her daughter, period…

Their love was real and raw and beautiful to behold.

It was, therefore, easy to speak the truth. “Very much so.”

“To separate them, Anton,” Conor rumbled, “would be to traumatize Lyra again.”

He didn’t answer that. “She is safe?”

“We’re working on that. If I hand you a location, can you send in a clean-up crew?”

“I can if you tell me the whole story.”

Though I grimaced, it was a small price to pay as he was being very accommodating in other matters.

Ones that were Eoghan, Troy, and Lyra-shaped.

“I will see that the bodies are cleared away,” he confirmed ten minutes later once he knew the full story. “But, child, you will keep me in the loop, do you understand? No more running away as if you were an angst-ridden teen.

“I am not your enemy.”

He did, I had to admit, keep on proving that.

“No,” I agreed slowly, “you aren’t.”

Kuznetsov released a heavy sigh. “I’m glad you accept this. Now, what’s your next plan?”

“To kill David Foundry and Garry Smythe,” I confessed without compunction.

Just when I thought he’d argue, instead, he stated, “You might not have known Aleks, Star, but he was your uncle. He was your blood. And more than that, he was a good man. He put himself and his family on the line to uncover your whereabouts and he paid for that with his life.

“Make them hurt for what they did to him, for what they have done to Lyra, and I will consider the first part of our deal to be satisfied.”

With that, he cut the call.