It’s the same man. Well-disguised, but it’s him.
Is he her lover, a boyfriend she’s been hiding all along? Jealousy burns through my veins, stinging like poison, but before my thoughts can spiral too far down that dark, ugly path, I remember her confession yesterday. It was as sincere as it was unwillingly given. Mina loves me, not him, I’m sure of that. Besides, she said I’m the first man she’s been with since the attack, and I have no reason to distrust that. That first night in Budapest, she’d been so tight I’d hurt her. Almost virgin tight, which would only make sense if it had been a long time for her.
But if he’s not her lover, just her ex-trainer, why did she risk her life to meet with him? That scumbag Tóth said they were good friends, that Nagy saved Mina when he walked in on the near-rape, but still.
Wait a minute.
No.
Fuck.
Suddenly, it all makes sense. The truth thwacks me like a sucker punch in the gut, and a sickening sensation settles in the pit of my stomach. All this time, I blamed Mina. I think back to the dirty shed on Esguerra’s property and Mina’s small body tied up in there, her pretty face bruised. I think about when we questioned her and how the minutest flicker sparked in her eyes when we showed her the photos of the Delta Force men disguised as us. At the time, I took her reaction for guilt, but I was wrong.
It wasn’t guilt. It was surprise. Mina didn’t do the disguises. It was Gergo Nagy. She recognized his work but took the blame to protect him.
My heart stutters. Of course, she’d protect him. He saved her from rape, maybe even saved her life.
Motherfucking fuck.
How could I not have seen her innocence before? Was I so desperate to hold her responsible?
A mingled confusion of relief and regret spears through me. Relief because she didn’t frame me. Regret for how this could’ve—should’ve—been.
As I digest this further, a wave of filthy self-loathing rolls through me.
I punished her for nothing. She’s innocent. That’s why she met Nagy here. To warn him. She knew if we found out about his involvement, I’d kill him.
Shit, shit, shit. Every molecule in my body resonates with fury. I want to chase down the motherfucker and strangle the life out of him. But everything is different now. Mina is in love with me, and I don’t want to hurt her more than I already have.
Fuck, what do I do?
“Yan?”
Mina’s voice comes to me, soft and uncertain. Frightened, even. My name on her lips pierces through the fog of my roiling emotions, pulling me back like a gentle tide.
Pushing everything under the surface, I school my features before facing her. “Mina?”
“Hanna was asking if we’re staying for dinner.”
There’s hope on her face, but also fear. She’s still wary of having me around Hanna after my threat. And who can blame her?
“We have a long day ahead tomorrow,” I say apologetically, already hating how sad acceptance settles in her blue eyes.
As I speak, I look at her. I look and I look. I can’t stop looking.
She’s not who I accused her of being. Over the weeks, I’ve made my peace with her betrayal. I’ve come to accept that our one-night stand meant nothing to her beyond the physical. I’ve congratulated myself for managing to tie her to me with feelings, using sex as a weapon. I’ve given myself a figurative pat on the back for making her fall in love with me. When her betrayal was my excuse, it wasn’t so hard to do. But now, that leverage is gone, and I have to face the fact that maybe our spontaneous sex on the night we met didn’t mean that little to her after all.
Fuck. I can no longer use her betrayal as currency. I can no longer take her freedom as payment for a sin she never committed.
Mina turns away to make Hanna comfortable, and I keep staring at her with new eyes. I look and look as one question keeps turning in my mind.
Can I let her go?
The answer sinks into my heart, heavy like a rock, rough with sharp edges.
No.
Fuck, no.
My woman approaches me with a faint smile. “Shall we go?”
It’s a smile that nearly kills me.
It’s hard for Mina to say goodbye, so much so the air in my lungs constricts with an incontrollable echo of sympathy. The truths I carry in the secret cavities of my chest maul me to a pulp inside. I hold Mina’s hand tightly as we get into the car, and I don’t let go until we’re home.
Ilya is out, chasing women. I wait until Mina is taking her shower before approaching Anton.
“I want you to go after Kiss in Switzerland. This job is too important to trust anyone else with it.”