Page 101 of Savage Lies

“She’s FSB. Pretending to be your wife. If you can’t see the difference, you’re compromised. And I’ll protect the family from you if I have to.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m saving you from yourself. And if I can’t, I’ll save the family instead.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if you won’t make the hard choice, I will.”

I hold his stare with my jaw tight and every muscle daring him to try.

The threat is clear. If I won’t eliminate the problem, he will. If I won’t choose the family over Katya, he’ll make the choice for me.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Because, unlike you, I remember what loyalty means.” He moves toward the door, then stops and turns back. “This can’t continue indefinitely, Dmitri. Handle the threat, or I will.”

He opens the door and steps into the hallway, leaving me alone with an ultimatum that feels like a knife between my ribs.

Choose the organization or choose Katya.

Choose duty or choose love.

Choose the legacy my father died protecting or choose the woman who was sent to destroy it.

29

Katya

Anya shows up twenty minutes early for our session, which is the first sign that tips me off that something is different about today.

“Sorry, I’m a bit ahead of schedule,” she says before she takes her usual chair. “Traffic was lighter than expected.”

Bullshit. Anya’s never early for anything unless there’s a reason. In fact, she’s usually late.

“No problem. Dmitri’s on a business call, anyway.”

“How have things been since we last talked?”

“Better. More settled.” I watch her face carefully for micro-expressions that might reveal her true agenda for today’s visit. “Pavel’s security upgrades have helped a lot.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Any new dreams or memory fragments?”

“A few. Nothing dramatic.” I trace my crescent moon tattoo on my wrist with my index finger, a gesture I know she’s been documenting. “Just flashes of places and faces.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Images of training facilities. Government buildings with multiple flags. People in suits who look nervous when they see me.” I pause. “The kind of things I assume someone might dream about if they worked in intelligence.”

Anya’s pen stops moving across her notepad. “What makes you think these dreams involve intelligence work?”

“The details are too specific. Too procedural. Like I’m remembering protocols instead of random experiences.”

“Dreams often incorporate elements from movies or books we’ve consumed. Spy films, action thrillers, that sort of thing.”

“Maybe. But when I dream about disarming attackers, my body knows which moves to use. When I dream about conducting surveillance, I understand the technical terminology.”

“Dreams often create vivid scenarios that feel meaningful but aren’t real.”