Page 92 of Savage Lies

He kisses my forehead with the same tenderness as always, but now, I know it’s an act. Every touch and gesture was meant to make me forget who I am.

What guts me most is that it worked. I fell in love with him…

Dmitri disappears into his office to handle whatever crisis demands his attention.

My hands shake as I trace the crescent moon tattoo on my wrist. I got it after my parents died, one of the darkest nights of my life.

We used to go stargazing when I was little. Mom would point out constellations, and Dad would tell stories about the moon. “No matter how dark it gets,” he’d say, “the moon always comes back.”

It was my reminder of that. Before the FSB. Before I learned to kill. Before I became someone my parents wouldn’t recognize.

I’m not Katya Kozlov, the wife he invented.

I’m Katya Sidorov, FSB agent. His prisoner.

And I love my captor.

26

Dmitri

The knock on my office door comes at ten sharp, and I already know Pavel’s standing there with another folder full of shit I don’t want to deal with.

“Come in.”

He walks in wearing the same practical, tactical clothes as always, and a briefcase in his hand. The guy looks like he’s ready for war, not a meeting.

“We’ve got problems,” he says without bothering with pleasantries.

I lean back in my chair and eye him. Ever since the mess at the estate, something about Pavel has bugged me. The man knows way too much about government operations for an ex-military contractor, and his obsession with Katya keeps setting off alarms in my head.

But he’s brought me a lot of useful information, so I’ve chosen to keep him on for the time being.

“I got with Viktor and analyzed his intel. Surveillance teams are all over your properties.” He pops open his briefcase and pulls out a tablet. “This isn’t some amateur-hour bullshit. We’re talking government-level resources.”

The photos he shows me make my blood run cold. Multiple positions around my building, the gallery, and three other places I own. The equipment in these shots costs more money than most people see in a lifetime.

I reach for the vodka bottle on my desk even though it’s barely past breakfast.

“What do they want?”

“Information on your organization. Financial records, personnel files, and operational structure. Standard stuff for building criminal cases.” Pavel closes the tablet and looks me in the eye. “They’re being thorough about it.”

I down the vodka in one shot and slam the glass on my desk hard enough to make Pavel jump. “What’s your recommendation?”

“Countermeasures. Electronic scramblers for audio, window treatments for visual, and secure communication protocols. The whole package.”

“How fast?”

“I can start today if you approve it. Full operational security in three days.”

Something about his timeline bothers me. Most consultants need weeks to plan this kind of operation, but Pavel talks like he’s got everything ready to roll.

“You seem pretty prepared for this. You’ve beaten government surveillance before?”

“Successfully enough that my clients stayed in business and out of prison.”

I watch his face while he talks. Pavel discusses defeating federal surveillance like he’s reading from a manual he knows by heart. Either he’s the most experienced contractor in Moscow, or he’s full of shit.