Page 130 of Shadow Waltz
“It won't come off,” I assured him, touching the collar that had become as natural as breathing. “It's part of me now. Part of us.”
But even as I said the words, I could feel the weight of what we were risking. Not just our lives or freedom, but the possibility that the deception might become reality, that the separation required by our trap might prove more permanent than either of us was prepared to accept.
The meeting pointwas a coffee shop in Midtown, neutral territory where federal agents could observe without appearing threatening, where a disaffected criminal partner might arrange to sell out his lover for the promise of immunity and protection. I sat at a corner table, wearing clothes that suggested desperation poorly disguised as defiance, and waited for our enemies to make contact.
Detective Reddick appeared exactly on schedule, sliding into the seat across from me with the confidence of someone who believed he'd already won. His eyes took in my appearance with calculating satisfaction, noting details that would confirm whatever psychological profile they'd developed about my relationship with Luka.
“You look tired,” he said, voice carrying false sympathy that made my skin crawl. “Like someone who's been running too long, hiding in places that aren't fit for human habitation.”
“Tired doesn't begin to cover it,” I replied, letting exhaustion color my voice in ways that weren't entirely performance. “Two weeks of living like an animal, watching him become more paranoid and violent every day, knowing that staying means dying with him when you finally corner us.”
Reddick leaned back in his chair, studying my face with the intensity of someone reading intelligence reports written in flesh and expression. “And you've decided that's not how you want your story to end.”
“I've decided that I'm twenty-six years old and I don't want to die for someone else's empire,” I said, the words tasting like ash even though they served our tactical purpose. “I've decidedthat whatever we had was never worth the price everyone else expects me to pay for it.”
The lie came easily, but it left a bitter aftertaste that reminded me how much truth it contained. Not about my feelings for Luka, but about the weight of choices that had led us to this moment, the understanding that love in our world came with costs that most people couldn't comprehend.
“What are you offering?” Reddick asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
“Everything,” I replied simply. “His location, his plans, his security protocols, his psychological weaknesses. Everything you need to end this without massive casualties or extended manhunt.”
“And in exchange?”
“Immunity. Protection. A chance to disappear into whatever witness protection program you've designed for situations like this.” I paused, letting vulnerability creep into my voice. “A chance to build a life that doesn't involve looking over my shoulder for federal agents or rival organizations.”
Reddick nodded slowly, and I could see him processing the implications of what I was offering. Not just tactical intelligence, but the psychological warfare that came from betraying someone who trusted completely, someone whose love had been the only constant in a world built on shifting loyalties.
“There are conditions,” he said, pulling out a tablet that displayed terms and requirements. “Full cooperation with ongoing investigations, testimony in grand jury proceedings, complete disclosure of all criminal activities you've witnessed or participated in.”
“Done,” I said without hesitation, because agreeing quickly was what someone desperate for escape would do.
“And one more thing,” Reddick added, his smile carrying edges that made my pulse quicken with something that wasn'tentirely fear. “You understand that once we move against him, there's no going back. No changing your mind, no last-minute warnings, no romantic reunions. Luka Markovic will either surrender or die, and either way, your relationship ends tonight.”
The finality in his voice should have been reassuring, confirmation that our deception was working exactly as planned. Instead, it sent something cold and terrible unfurling in my chest, because it forced me to confront the possibility that our trap might succeed too well, that the separation required by our plan might become the separation imposed by failure.
“I understand,” I said, though the words felt like swallowing broken glass.
The safe house they took me to was exactly what I'd expected—neutral territory designed to contain valuable assets while federal teams coordinated their operations. But it was being watched by our people, Troy and Dmitri positioned to ensure that whatever happened next, Luka would know exactly where to find me when the time came.
“Comfortable?” Agent Sarah Chen asked, settling into the chair across from me with professional courtesy that couldn't quite hide the predatory satisfaction underneath. She'd been assigned as my handler, the person responsible for extracting every useful detail from my willing betrayal of the man who'd trusted me completely.
“As comfortable as anyone can be while selling out the person they love,” I replied, letting bitterness color my voice in ways that weren't entirely performance.
“Love,” Chen repeated, as if the word carried implications she found personally offensive. “Is that what you call it? Because from the outside, it looked more like some fucked up fairy tale dressed up in expensive jewellery.”
Her observation hit closer to home than I wanted to admit, because it forced me to examine the foundation of what Luka and I had built together. Had our relationship begun with genuine choice, or had I simply learned to love my captor with enough conviction to convince myself it was real?
“Maybe it was,” I said quietly. “Maybe that's what made it so easy to walk away when I realized that dying for someone else's delusions wasn't romantic—it was just stupid.”
The lie burned as I spoke it, but it served our tactical purpose while also revealing truths I'd been avoiding. Whatever we'd become, however genuine our feelings had grown, our relationship had begun with him owning me completely. The collar around my throat was beautiful, but it was still a collar.
“Tell me about his security protocols,” Chen said, activating a recording device that would capture every detail of my willing cooperation. “How many people, what kind of weapons, how he's been avoiding surveillance since the masquerade.”
I spent the next four hours providing intelligence that was accurate enough to be believable while containing subtle flaws that would give Luka tactical advantages when federal teams moved against him. But it was the personal details they wanted most—his psychological vulnerabilities, his emotional responses, the specific ways my betrayal could be weaponized to break whatever remained of his resistance.
“He loves you,” Chen observed after I'd finished outlining Luka's protective instincts and possessive behaviors. “Really loves you, not just owns you. That's his weakness.”
“That's everyone's weakness,” I replied, touching the collar at my throat with fingers that trembled slightly. “Caring about someone gives your enemies weapons they can use to destroy you.”