THE FBI OFFICE should have felt like home, but being back there felt... wrong. The buzz of conversation, the smell of bad coffee... even my gray FBI suit felt scratchy and alien. I stared at the paperwork on my desk, undisturbed since I’d flown off to meet Konstantin. I’d been gone two weeks. It felt like a lifetime.

I needed to be busy, so I wouldn’t think, but there was no more surveillance to be done. Not now our quarry was a prisoner downstairs.

Prisoner. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Konstantin’s face when I’d arrested him. There was a party atmosphere at the office: we did it, we caught him. Someone had opened a bottle of champagne and was pouring glasses. It made me want to break down and scream.

I’d lost him. I’d torn us apart forever, betrayed him in the cruelest way possible, just after he’d spared my life and given me a chance.

But I’d had no choice. Had I?

There was no one I could talk to. The FBI agents all thought I was some sort of hero, sympathetic about what I must have had to go through at the mansion. I needed Calahan, but he was being debriefed and might be hours. He’d managed to cover for me, claiming that I’d alerted him to Konstantin making a run for the airport.

After an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went down to the interrogation rooms, careful on the stairs because I was still wearing three inch heels. I’d changed clothes because I wanted to leave Christina behind as fast as possible, but I hadn’t had any spare shoes at the office.

I found Carrie in the observation room, staring through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room. I hesitated in the doorway, keeping my eyes off the mirror. I’d come down here to see Konstantin but, now that I was here, I couldn’t face seeing him.

Carrie saw me, marched over and pulled me into the room and then into her arms. “Good job,” she told me. “Very good job.” Her voice was shaky with emotion.

I squeezed her back. The mirror was behind me, now, and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up: I could feel Konstantin’s brooding presence in the room beyond. I’m not going to be able to turn around.

Carrie pushed back from the hug and studied me. “I know it can’t have been easy,” she said carefully. “I’m glad you’re back with us.”

I said nothing. While I’d been at the mansion, she’d heard enough over the earpiece that she must at least suspect that I’d fallen for him. But she was letting me come home, all sins forgiven, because I’d delivered her the prize.

I nodded. “It’s good to be back,” I said weakly.

Carrie looked over my shoulder, towards the one-way mirror and Konstantin. “He’s not talking,” she told me bitterly. “Not a goddamn word.”

What?! “That makes no sense!” I looked at the clock, panicked. “The email said the assassination would happen at 1pm. That’s in two hours. We have enough to pin it on him. If he lets it happen, he’s going to jail for twenty years!” I felt ill: I’d wanted to stop a gang war, but the thought of Konstantin caged in a tiny cell until he was an old man…. And if the assassination went ahead, the war would still happen.

Carrie shook her head, scowling. “Maybe it’s worth it to him, to see one of his rivals fall.”

I turned that over in my mind. It didn’t feel right. Konstantin had a sense of honor. I still had trouble believing he’d murder one of his rivals in cold blood. But even if that was true, he wouldn’t want to rule New York from prison. Why wouldn’t he cut a deal and help us stop the assassination? With his lawyers, he could be out in five years instead of twenty.

I had to see him. My chest so tight I could hardly breathe, I slowly turned around.

A huge, hot lump rose in my throat. They’d chained Konstantin’s wrists and ankles and then chained them together, like he was some kind of animal. He sat there in silence, glowering at the mirror. I knew he couldn’t see us, but it felt like he knew I was there. His eyes burned into me. Why did you do this to me?

I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. I’m sorry! “Let me have five minutes with him,” I told Carrie. “Maybe I can get him to talk.”

Carrie turned and frowned at me, searching my face for any shred of deception. But I had no ulterior motive: I just wanted to stop the assassination and the gang war that would follow, the same as her. If I couldn’t, everything I’d sacrificed would have been for nothing.

“Please,” I begged.

“Five minutes,” she told me.

I opened the door. He looked up and saw me and—

He turned his head and looked away, glaring at the mirror. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Of course he hates you. What did you expect?

I closed the door and walked over to the metal table. The room was so quiet, I could hear the hiss of air as he breathed, each exhalation shaky with rage. I pulled out my chair, the legs scraping on the tiles, and sat down.

“Please,” I said. “You have to tell us who’s going to be assassinated. Is it Luka Malakov? Angelo Baroni?” But he didn’t react, wouldn’t even look at me. “Please! I want to help you!”

At that, he finally turned his head. But the raw fury in his eyes almost made me want him to look away again. I wilted under that glare, crumbled under it. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

“Why won’t you talk?” I blurted, close to tears. “Co-operate, you could be out in a few years instead of...I don’t want to see you spend your whole life in jail!”

Without thinking, I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He looked down and a bolt of fear went through me as I realized what I’d done. He was a prisoner and I was meant to keep my distance. Even chained, he could easily break my neck if I let him get hold of me. I went to draw my hand back—

And then I remembered the first time I’d ever taken his hand, in the back of his car, and how shocked he’d been. No one’s ever done that before. No one’s loved this man.

He needed someone to love him now.

So I left my hand where it was. Trusting him not to hurt me.

And when he looked up and met my eyes, I could see a flicker of blue in all that cold gray. He still loved me, whether he wanted to or not.

“Please,” I said again. “Talk.”

He shook his head, but... the blue expanded and there was a hint, just a hint, of warmth as he looked at me. He turned away, trying to hide his weakness. But I’d seen it. He still cared about me, and the reason he wasn’t talking was—

Oh God.

The reason he wasn’t talking was me! Even now, even after everything I’d done to him, he was trying to protect me. He knew that if he talked to the FBI, it would eventually come out that I’d been running away to Russia with him. My career would be over: they might even charge me with something. “No,” I said frantically, “No, I won’t let you rot in jail just so that—”

I broke off, staring into his eyes. I’d just remembered that Carrie was listening from behind the mirror. I leaned in and put my lips to his ear. “Thank you,” I whispered. “But I can’t let you do that. Tell us about the assassination. Cut a deal. I’ll take my chances.” He shook his head. “Please! There’ll be a gang war, innocents will die. I know you don’t want that!”

He lifted his head and put his lips to my ear. Even now, the feel of him there, the sound of his voice, sent a hot rush straight through me. “Even if I didn’t care about you, Golub, I can’t tell them what they want to know,” he told me. “And if you really love me, you know why.”

I heard the door bang open behind me. “That’s enough!” snapped Carrie.

Konstantin’s head snapped up and he glared at his nemesis. She glared right back at him. “Mr. Gulyev,” she said, “if you won’t cooperate, fine. When the assassination happens, I’ll charge you with conspiracy to murder and put you in a deep, dark hole for the rest of your days.”

I slowly stood up, my hand still on Konstantin’s. My eyes stayed locked on his as the realization hit me. I did know why.

I hadn’t been wrong about Konstantin. I’d been right. He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer.

He couldn’t tell the FBI about the assassination because he wasn’t behind it.

Someone had set him up.