Page 34 of Stolen Empire

There's a T-shirt and a pair of boxers folded on the counter, both too large for me, but I pull them on anyway.

They smell clean, faintly of detergent, and I realize they're his.

The thought makes my stomach twist, but I push it down.

It's not like I can run away wearing nothing but a T-shirt and boxers.

Even in early summer here in Moscow, the attire just isn't appropriate.

I'd stand out like a sore thumb, so I'm going to have to endure whatever this is a bit longer before I try to slip away again.

At least for now, I'm clean and I'm not locked in a tiny room.

When I venture out of the bathroom, I find him in the kitchen, standing at the stove.

He's cooking something, the smell rich and savory, and my stomach growls.

He glances at me, his gaze traveling over the too-large clothes, and then he nods toward the table.

"Sit," he orders, and I do, and a few minutes later, he sets a plate in front of me.

Potatoes, meat, vegetables.

Simple food, but it's the first real meal I've had in a week.

I pick up the fork and eat, too hungry to care about manners or pride, and he sits across from me, watching.

"I've removed the mole from the track," he says, his voice conversational. "Rodion won't be a problem anymore."

I stop chewing, the food turning to ash in my mouth.

"You killed him?"

"Yes."

I set the fork down, my appetite gone, and I stare at the plate.

Dimitri leans back in his chair, his arms crossed, and he continues like this is a casual conversation.

"There's a more pressing matter now," he says. "One I think you may be useful for."

I look up at him, and the fear is back, coiling in my chest.

"What matter?"

"The Radich crew. They've been circling for months, testing my defenses, waiting for an opening. Rodion was feeding them information, but now that he's gone, they'll come harder. I need to know what they're planning, and I need someone who can get close enough to find out."

"You want me to spy on them?"

My voice is flat, disbelieving.

"I want you to infiltrate them. You're good at lying, at playing roles. You've already proven that. And they don't know you, which makes you perfect."

"And if I refuse?"

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, and his eyes lock onto mine.

"You won't. Because you've learned your lesson. You belong to me, and you'll do what I tell you to do. And if you do it well, if you get me the information I need, then maybe you'll earn a longerleash. Maybe you'll get to sleep in a bed instead of a tiny room. Maybe you'll get to eat real food and take hot showers. But if you refuse, if you try to run again, I'll put you back in that room and leave you there until you rot."