Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
I told him he wouldn’t have a wife to defend if it weren’t for my wife.
He seemed to pay attention, but our conversation was hours ago, and not a single member of my team has laid eyes on Zoya since.
I flatten my palms on my desk just as Konstantine says, “I found a way in.” His fingers fly at a million miles an hour. “Where do you want me to look first? I won’t have access for long. Henry’s hacker is good.” We had to go around the federation’s system since it no longer exists.
Henry doesn’t just dismantle an organization. He wipes their existence from the history books.
“The Chrysler Building. That’s where Mikhail dropped her off.” My eyes go wild when we see inside the building for the first time in months. Maksim’s security is usually too high to infiltrate. “There.”
My heart thrashes against my ribs when Konstantine freezes the image of Zoya sprinting through an underground parking garage. Her face is ashen, meaning the tears tracking down her cheeks can’t be missed.
“Get the plate, then add it to the traffic cam database.”
“Fuck,” Konstantine groans. “I’m out. She booted me.”
Shockingly, I keep a cool head. “Try again. While you do that, I’ll seek another access point.”
The click of a safety on a gun being flicked off sounds through my ears when I enter the room next to my office. Zakhar is still sedated, but I’m not here for him. I need the man seated across from him who survived the federation’s implosion by the fine hairs on top of his head.
The secret service agent in the corner of the room re-houses his gun when he realizes who is approaching our current serving president. He knows I am no fret to my grandfather because if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t exist either.
It wasn’t solely the public’s admiration that kept me alive. It was also my grandfather’s. He loved my mother from afar for years, so in turn, some of that affection shifted to me when I was born.
He rules with an iron fist, but just like Henry, his rulings are fair. He couldn’t stomach me being torn from his clutches as numerous of his children were during his prime, so he agreed to be the federation’s puppet on the promise that my lineage would be buried as strenuously as his son hid his one and only true love.
My father let them take my mother. He hid Mikhail’s.
The knowledge pisses me off until I recall what the outcome could have been if he hadn’t loved Mikhail’s mother more than mine.
When my grandfather’s rheumy eyes lift to me, the shame in them reminds me of the reason for my visit. “I need access to White Eye.”
“I don’t have access—”
“You do,” I interrupt, my tone stern. “You might have been puppeteered as well as the rest of us, but you had to input every code, speak every word of their vocal access passwords. You have access; you just need to bring back the fear. The notoriety. You need to continue trying to return our family name to the glory it once held.”
He nearly corrects me when I say our, but my hand thrust at Zakhar halts his words.
“He won’t survive this without her, Andrik.” I use his middle name on purpose, knowing his fondness of me may be the only way I will chip through his stern exterior. “A boy needs his mother. I know this more than anyone. Give him the chance to show you he can be great by having the guidance of both a mother and a father.” I lower my eyes to his pinkie finger, balking when his family crest ring is nowhere to be seen. Its disappearance fuels my campaign. “We’re not robots, Grandpa. We can love you without fearing you.” An unexcepted pocket of emotions hits my voice when I murmur, “She could have loved you without fearing you. You just never gave her the chance. Don’t do the same thing to Zakhar.”
His wet eyes lower from his translucent hands. He stares at them with a brooding silence that displays he is a man of great power. He wants our family name to have the respect it once held. I truly believe that. He’s just fighting demons decades older than mine.
“Please,” I murmur, not below begging if it ensures Zoya is returned to me safely. “You didn’t do all this work to let your family down now. Help me find her. Help me find my wife.”
He stares at me for barely a second before he flicks his eyes to the secret service agent standing guard in the corner of the room. “Fetch my briefcase.”
“Mr. President—”
“Now!”
I inwardly fist pump when his stern rumble leaps the agent into action. He races for a briefcase my grandfather is never without before placing it on the end of Zakhar’s bed not used by his tiny frame.