“Our outside network is set,” I continued. “The Baltimore route is compromised — too much visibility — so we’re pivoting south. Transfer vehicle changes twice. Third handoff is off-record. No comms, no witnesses.”
“So the exit point will be Florida?” he asked.
I nodded once. “The yacht’s confirmed, and the crew’s been vetted. Once we’re on the water, it’s gone. Puerto Rico by morning.”
Kyrill gave a short, unamused huff of laughter. “About fucking time.”
“About fucking time,” I agreed. Then, after a beat, “There’s an adjustment.”
That got his attention.
“Not to the extraction. The timeline holds. We’re just, ah, … We’re adding a stop.”
Kyrill studied my face, trying to decipher why I had made this decision. He’d known me long enough to understand the difference mattered. “How long?”
“Brief.” I shrugged. “Non-negotiable.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t add variables this late.”
Kyrill was one of the few people who spoke to me like that. Not because he forgot his place, but because I had given him one. He’d stuck with me through worse decisions than this. Trusted me when trust was hard to come by and bled when I asked him to. And I had done the same for him. This kind of bond doesn’t form accidentally.
“I do,” I corrected mildly, “when the variable matters.”
Silence stretched between us. Kyrill finally nodded, deferring to my decision. “What are we picking up?”
I didn’t answer right away. Because whatever I called her out loud would be a lie. “Something that doesn’t belong where it is … and won’t stay there much longer.”
Kyrill’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Security risk?” he asked.
“For anyone else?” I swayed my head from side to side. “Probably.”
“For us?” he pressed, one brow quirked.
I met his gaze fully then. “No.”
He gave me a sharp nod. “I’ll reroute the secondary transport. Make sure the stop doesn’t register.”
“Good.” Kyrill leaned back against the wall. “Since when do you pick up trophies on the way?”
I allowed myself the smallest pause. “This isn’t a trophy. It’s an inevitability.”
He didn’t ask anything else, merely nodded again, and clapped me on the back. “You’re the boss. I trust you.”
When he walked away, I lingered, my gaze fixed on nothing as I contemplated this latest addition to our plan. I didn’t need confirmation to know where this was going.
My little devil thought curiosity was her flaw. She had no idea how neatly she’d stepped into a plan already in motion, how little room there was now between where she stood and where she would end up.
I hadn’t told Kyrill why the stop mattered but he surely had his guesses. He knew me better than perhaps anyone else.
I wouldn’t tell Addy either. She didn’t need to be scared or involved in any of this. I would take care of this the same way I would take care of her from now on.
All she needed to do was to be exactly where I was going to pick her up.
And soon — very soon — she would be mine.
Addy: On a scale from one to “I should not have done this,” where am I right now?
Somewhere between “interesting decision” and “predictable outcome.”