Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
“That was always implied.”
“And we want the Russians.” His eyes cut to Wolf. “In the nightclub, you wore devices no one detected, cameras and other hidden communications that allowed the Russians to see and hear everything. And the explosive… It was invisible enough to sneak inside.” He tilts his head. “The Ghost built all that?”
“Yep. With two of these.” Wolf lifts both hands, fingers splayed and wriggling, irreverent as fuck. “DIY.”
Murmurs move around the table.
“You want the Russians?” I look at Matias. “I thought you didn’t trust them?”
“I had to be sure, and now I know.” His dark eyes glint. “The Ghost and his associates don’t traffic humans. That makes them amenable to our cause. Persuadable. Useful. We want them to help us.”
“The Ghost is retired.” Wolf shrugs.
“Then you have your first assignment, Wolfson Strakh. Make him unretired.”
“Sure.” He coughs. “Totally doable. No problem.” He nods, shifting. “I’m on it.”
“This is where the second demand comes in.” I turn back to the table. “We want time in Alaska. The three of us. Time with our family there.”
“How much time?” Matias asks.
“Half the year.” I steady my breathing. “Fifty percent here, fifty percent there.”
“Your home is here.” He sets his jaw.
I grit my teeth. I knew this would be the hard one.
A chair shifts at the far end of the table. Tiago Badell leans back, arm draped over his wife’s lap. Former kingpin of Venezuela, still holding himself like the crown never left.
“Kate and I spend most of the year in Eritrea.” Tiago lifts a brow at Matias.
“Siempre haces lo que te da la gana.” Matias scowls.
“Porque soy mi propio jefe.” Tiago shrugs, a lazy roll of one shoulder.
A few quiet sounds ripple down the table. I really need to learn Spanish. Like yesterday.
“Algún día esa boca te va a costar caro.” Matias leans forward, arms angrily braced on his knees.
“Stop flirting.” Tiago laughs. “I might get the wrong idea.”
The room settles again, tension redistributed.
“Just going to pile on here.” Across the table, Cole Hartman winks at me and turns to Matias. “Lydia and I spend our summers in Russia and winters in Ireland. It’s never been an issue.”
Beside him, Joshua Carter leans toward his wife. “Liv and I live in Texas during football season.” He looks straight at Matias. “Be reasonable, jefe.”
Silence follows. Not empty or hostile. Evaluative.
Matias’s expression tightens with irritation. He doesn’t like being boxed in by his own circle. He likes it even less when they’re right.
What I’ve learned about these people is simple. Family comes first, their loved ones outrank everything else, and every voice at the table carries weight.
I stay still, hands relaxed, eyes on the shadow boss.
“¿Alguna otra opinión?” Matias asks the room.
No one speaks.
He holds the silence for a moment, sipping from his glass. When he sets it down, his smile is already in place.
“It’s settled.” He looks directly at me. “You may come and go as you want. Use our helicopters. Our planes. Be present for all required meetings.” His tone sharpens. “But your home base is here. With The Freedom Fighters. ¿Comprende?”
I nod. Beside me, Wolf and Dove nod, too.
“Bueno.” Matias leans in. “One more thing.”
I wait.
“Every time you return to Colombia…” He flicks his eyes to Wolf. “You will bring Strakh Vodka.”
“Knew it.” Wolf grins.
“Understood.” I incline my head, hiding my smile.
The table exhales and drifts back into conversations about travel windows, aircraft maintenance, and the perfect heat level in the sauce. Plates shift. Glasses refill. The machine resumes its hum.
I rest an arm along the back of Wolf’s chair and let my fingers trail over the nape of his neck. He stills under the touch without looking at me, a subtle acknowledgment that stirs so many things in my chest.
Dove leans across Wolf and reaches for me. I catch her hand easily.
“I’m happy, Jag,” she whispers for only our circle of three. “Are you… Happy?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I swear it.” I hook our pinkies together and lift them to my lips.
Then I offer our intertwined fingers to Wolf.
He cradles both our hands in his palms, dips his head, and kisses our fingers with a seriousness that silences me.
When he looks up, the three of us hold one another’s eyes over the small bridge of skin and promise.
The moment loosens, and we separate to eat.
I turn back to my plate and find Camila watching me from my other side, her expression unreadable.
“Welcome to the family.” She lifts her glass, her finger tapping against the stem. “I told you in our first meeting that I’d been watching you, studying the jobs you refuse and the people you protect.”
“I remember.”
“You turned down every contract tied to human trafficking. Every operation that involved harming people who couldn’t fight back. That told me everything.” Her nostrils pulse with a slow inhale. “You belong here. In the circle.” Her gaze moves to Wolf and Dove. “So do they. You were never going to survive without them.” Her eyes return to me. “Without them, you would’ve never been able to breathe.”