Page 47 of Scarred Angel

“It’s been an eventful few weeks back in the States,” I admit.

He nods, eyes drifting toward the photo of Valentina at her college graduation.

“She’s okay. That’s what’s important.”

If he only knew how far pastokaywe’ve gotten.

What would he think of us—of me? Valentina isn’t just his niece. She’s his family. His blood.

Would he resent me for crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed? It took everything, every ounce of restraint, respect, and control, not to do exactly what she asked of me.

She told me to ruin her, to take her.

And I would.

God, I would.

“I heard it’s going to be a full house tonight,” I say, changing the subject. It’s safer this way.

“You notice I’ve kept my distance from your mother and hid all her favorite sharp things, just in case?”

I bark a laugh. Even more than a decade removed from his last contract, Silas still keeps a strict regimen. His skills are sharp, his body fit, and his reflexes lethal. The man hasn’t dulled an inch since his days with Ares. The only person alive who can shake him is his wife.

And I don’t blame him.

I’m afraid of her, too.

“Smart man.”

Everyone knows how they met. Their cat-and-mouse fairytale used to be one of my favorite bedtime stories. Shit like that reminds you how fragile fate really is. One well-placed bullet. A knife an inch to the right. A decision made two minutes too late. My father killing Eva. Any one of those things could’ve set off a butterfly effect big enough to rewrite all our lives.

“What about you, son? Anyone special in your life?”

Another drink. The liquid slides down my throat with more effort than I anticipate.

“No. Nothing but more work waits for me back in Moscow.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a second in which his smile falters, then slips back into place so quickly I question whether it actually happened. He nods, his eyes drifting back to his drink.

“Work's a loyal companion, I suppose,” he says, voice resigned. “It never argues and never leaves.”

I force a tight smile. “And never asks you to stay.”

Silas’s laugh is brief. He sets his glass down with a quiet clink and leans against the desk. “You know, there was a time I believed that kind of loyalty was everything. That it made you untouchable. But I was wrong. It wears you down, Maksim. Makes you forget that you’re flesh and bone. It wasn’t until Leni that I realized there was more to life than that.”

I look down at my drink. It’s half-empty.

There is more.

A flash of dark hair. Brown eyes. Dimples.

Valentina.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say. “Not yet.”

He turns his head slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet. But there’s no lecture waiting behind his stare, only something heavier. Sadder.

“Just don’t wait too long. Eventually, even the best men run out of time.”