“No. I want him to live as many days as God allows.”
He says nothing. I believe he understands.
“I’m going to lie down.”
“Are you?—”
“No, Sergei. No, I’m not okay. But I will be.”
34
Sergei
Kirill doesn’t knock.
He never does when it matters.
I look up from the report in front of me. He’s already crossing the room, another folder in hand, expression tight enough that I don’t bother pretending this is anything but bad.
“We have a problem.”
We always have a problem. “Just once, I would like you to start with something else.”
“And for just once, I’d like to have something else to lead with.”
“Yuri?” I lean back slightly. “Talk.”
He drops the folder on my desk and taps it with his finger. “Look.”
Copies of the Craigslist ads.
I flip through them, slower than I need to. Not because I don’t understand what I’m looking at, but because I do.
The hair at the back of my neck stands. There’s a familiar tingling sensation rushing over my body.
“That’s not possible,” I say even when I know it is.
“He’s alive. The account linked to his reply is active. Very recently active.”
Of course he is alive.
“The Ghost lives,” Kirill says.
I should have known better than to believe that was over. Men like him don’t die in alcoves. They don’t die messy. Not unless someone makes damn sure of it.
He’s still coming. Not for me. That goes against the established rules within our treaty.
Yuri doesn’t play by our rules. He’s not part of our treaty.
And the Ghost doesn’t care about rules at all. He’s going to keep coming until he succeeds.
“Get a message to him. I’ll pay the contract.”
“You think it’ll stop him?”
“He doesn’t care who she is. He cares about the money. Fuck it. I’ll double the contract.”
“You want me to have him handle Yuri.”