Page 25 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

VESPER

I can hear them outside the door.

Whispering. Plotting. Trying to figure out how to drag me out of Kovan’s office without causing an international incident.

Maybe they’ll call the fire department. Maybe they’ll slip something under the door—food, water, a written apology from their boss for being a lying bastard. Maybe they’ll just wait me out until I get hungry enough to surrender.

I hope they don’t think of that last one. I’m pregnant. I get hungry every twenty minutes now. It’s a foolproof plan.

“Vesper!” Kovan booms through the wooden door. “Can we talk about this?”

I ignore him and yank open another desk drawer. Like the others, it’s empty—except for a single black pen and what looks like a receipt for dry cleaning. Who keeps dry cleaning receipts in their desk? Psychopaths, that’s who.

“Sure, we can talk!” I yell back while rifling through the next drawer. “Go ahead and talk. I’m listening!”

“I was hoping we could do this face to face.”

“Yeah, well, I was hoping you weren’t a criminal mastermind, but here we are.”

The thing is, they could have broken down the door ten minutes ago.

Or even easier than that: Kovan has spare keys to everything in this building.

Hell, he probably has spare keys to the Pentagon.

So either he’s enjoying watching me tear his office apart, or there’s nothing in here worth protecting.

Which would mean all of this was pointless.

Sweat runs down my spine despite the air conditioning. My hands shake as I slam the last drawer shut and turn toward his desk. I’ve checked everywhere except?—

“Oh, c’mon. Surely it’s not that simple.”

His laptop sits closed on the desk, innocent as a lamb. Password-protected, no doubt, but worth a shot. It’s not like I’m overflowing with other options, anyway.

I flip it open and the login screen appears. One password field standing between me and the truth about Kovan Krayev.

“If I were a tall, brooding mob boss, what would my password be?” I ask out loud.

I type: brATVA

Access denied. Two attempts remaining.

I try: LUKA

Access denied. One attempt remaining.

One attempt left before the system locks me out completely. My fingers hover over the keyboard. This is it. My last chance to prove that Kovan is either the villain I suspected or the man I fell in love with.

I close my eyes and type: VESPER

The desktop loads.

My own name. His password is my own goddamn name .

I stare at the screen, momentarily stunned. Then I shake my head and focus. It doesn’t mean anything. Serial killers probably name their computers after their victims, too. I don’t read into it. I can’t.

A folder appears on the screen without me clicking anything. It’s labeled “ KERES ” in bold letters, like the computer read my mind and served up exactly what I came looking for.

I open it.

The first document is a termination notice to someone named Dr. Frederick McCarthy, dated three months ago.

Your contract with the Keres organization is hereby dissolved. All patient obligations are null and void.

The second is an email to someone named Massimo Eaton: The organ procurement program is permanently discontinued. Your deposit has been refunded in full.

The third is a spreadsheet titled “ Asset Liquidation . ” It lists properties, bank accounts, and shell companies, all of which appear to be in the process of being dissolved or transferred. Everything related to the organ trafficking operation is being systematically dismantled.

I scroll through dozens of similar documents. Contract terminations. Refunds. Facility closures. Client notifications.

All dated within the last six months. All signed by Kovan.

He wasn’t lying.

He really is shutting it down.

“Do you believe me now?”

I spin around in the chair. Kovan stands three feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“How did you get in here?”

He holds up a silver key. “Spare.”

My brain struggles to process this. “You… you wanted me to find these files.”

“I realized you wouldn’t stop digging until you had answers,” he says. “And maybe giving you those answers wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“What took you so long to reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve never had to trust anyone with this much before.”

I close my eyes and let that sink in. I’ve been so focused on whether I could trust him that I never considered what it might cost him to trust me .

A sob escapes before I can stop it. Then another. Before I know it, I’m crying ugly, heaving tears that make my whole body shake.

“Shit,” I gasp, trying to pull myself together. “Sorry. Pregnancy hormones.”

Kovan moves around the desk and crouches in front of my chair. His office looks like a tornado hit it—papers scattered everywhere, drawers hanging open, books pulled from shelves. It’s all my doing. He doesn’t seem to care.

“Don’t apologize.”

“You probably think I’m insane.”

“I think you’re scared,” he corrects. “And I think you have every right to be.”

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Attractive, I’m sure. “I know what you’re thinking. I have no right to judge you when my own father was part of this. When I falsified medical records to save my mother. You’re thinking I’m a hypocrite.”

“Am I?”

“Aren’t you?”

“What I’m thinking,” he says slowly, “is that you’re the most ethical person I know. And the fact that you compromised those ethics for your mother only proves how much you love her.”

“I destroyed someone else’s chance at survival. Another patient got kicked off that trial because of what I did. He’s going to die, Kovan.”

“Cancer patients die every day, Vesper. With or without clinical trials.”

“But I took away his chance. However slim it was, I stole it from him.” Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “I became my father.”

“No,” he says. “You’re nothing like your father.”

“How can you say that? I faked documents. I manipulated a system designed to help people. I put my family ahead of strangers who needed help just as much!”

“Your father killed innocent people for money. You bent rules to save the woman who raised you. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.” He reaches up and touches my cheek, his thumb tracing the trio of small birthmarks near my temple. “You’re a good person, Vesper. Not perfect, but good.”

“Given the circles you run in, that’s not exactly a high bar.”

He chuckles. “Have you always been this bad at accepting compliments?”

“Sorry. I just… I feel like such a fraud.”

“You’re not a fraud. You’re human. And humans make impossible choices sometimes.”

I arch into his touch despite myself. “Is that why you broke up with me?”

His hand drops away. “I broke up with you because the situation changed. Ihor threatened to take Luka away if I didn’t comply with his demands. I had to choose between protecting you and protecting him.”

“I know. I understand that now. I just…” The words I want to say are stuck in my throat. “I just want you to pick me, too.”

He goes very still. “Vesper.”

“I want both,” I continue. “I want you to keep Luka safe and I want you to want me anyway. I know that’s selfish. I know it’s asking too much. But I can’t help it.”

He studies my face for a long moment. “You were hoping to find proof that I was still running the operation.”

I blink. That’s not what I expected. “What?”

“If I were still trafficking organs, you could walk away without feeling guilty about wanting me. You could tell yourself I was irredeemable and move on with your life.”

The accuracy of his observation makes me cringe. “Well… maybe.”

“But now, you know I’m trying to get out. So what does that change?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” I meet his eyes. “Do you still want me? After everything that’s happened?”

His pupils dilate. For a moment, I think he’s going to say yes. Then his expression hardens. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It matters to me.”

“Vesper, there’s something else you need to know. Something that might change how you feel about all of this.”

Cold dread washes over me. “What?”

“Your father didn’t just refuse those liver transplants because he felt guilty. He refused them because my father gave him an ultimatum.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Thomas wanted out of the Keres operation months before he got sick. He kept trying to undermine the organization, sabotage deals, warn potential victims. Genrikh couldn’t let that continue.”

My mouth goes dry. “What are you saying?”

“If the liver disease hadn’t killed your father, my father would have.”

I stumble to my feet, backing away from Kovan. “No. No, that’s not… My father died of Wilson’s disease. It was genetic. He was sick.”

“He was sick, yes. But he was also marked for death.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Kovan stands slowly, his hands raised like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “Thomas refused treatment because Genrikh told him that if he accepted a transplant and lived, your entire family would be killed. Your father died to keep you and Waylen and your mother safe.”

I clutch the edge of the desk for balance. “You’re saying your father murdered mine.”

He nods solemnly. “Essentially, yes.”

“And you knew this. All this time, you knew.”

“I found out recently. I wanted to tell you, but?—”

“But what? You thought I’d be cool with it? You thought I’d just shrug it off?”

“I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

I laugh, but it comes out broken and bitter. “The truth. Right. Well, here’s a truth for you, Kovan. My father may have been a criminal, but he was still my father. And your father took him away from me.”

“Vesper, please?—”

“No.” I head for the door. “We’re done. This thing between us, whatever it was, it’s over.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “Don’t I?”

“Think about what you’re doing. Think about our son.”

“I am thinking about him! I’m thinking I don’t want him growing up around people who solve their problems by threatening to murder entire families.”

“That’s not who I am.”

“Isn’t it?” I turn to face him. “Your father killed mine. Your organization destroyed hundreds of lives. You’ve spent months lying to me about all of it. So tell me, Kovan, who exactly are you?”

He stares at me for a long moment. “I’m the man who loves you.”

That stops me cold. Three words I’ve been waiting months to hear. Three words that should change everything.

Instead, they break what’s left of my heart.

“That just makes this harder,” I whisper.

Then I walk out of his office and don’t look back.