⧗ CHAPTER FORTY-TWO ⧗


Galina never made it to the rendezvous point.

He and Sabina waited for an hour. Then two. Then four. She never responded after they had left the gala.

At first, they thought maybe she had to take a detour. But the longer the silence went, the longer they waited for their handler to run interference, the more they knew they were already too late.

Dreykov's presence at the gala, combined with theirs? It didn't take a genius to figure out what might have happened.

Another Black Widow lost to his clutches. The worst part was not knowing how, when exactly it happened. How he got to her, how he disabled her, how he did it all without alerting the rest of them. Why he chose Galina. Why not one of them. Was it a choice? Or were they just lucky?

Though the mission itself was a success, it didn't feel like it, returning home. Dmitri's first official mission as a Wolf Spider, and they lost one of their older sisters.

The Madame was not pleased, to say the least.

Dmitri could see her biting back the reaction when they returned home with the news. The shock and pain of losing Galina. The awful sighting of Yelena. How her face suddenly drained of color, how her gloves pulled tight over clenched knuckles. And then release, as she took a deep breath, and told them how glad she was that they were able to return home safely.

But Dmitri knew that wasn't the end of it.

He knew it, when the Madame came to him later, in his private room. A soft knock to announce her entry, one he couldn't refuse. Dmitri had taken well to having his own room again, finally the privacy he'd always wanted but never realized he did until now. Not sharing a room with a sister who couldn't bear to look at him.

"Dmitri," The Madame began, with the kind of weight in her voice that had him worry. "With Dreykov getting bolder, I no longer think its safe for you to operate on this continent. The fact he didn't make you was mere chance. If it happened again, you won't be so lucky. And I don't want to give him any reason to think I now have a Wolf Spider."

He frowned. "Are you benching me?"

Being stuck in the Red Room wasn't exactly a punishment, but for a freshly graduated agent, Dmitri was aching to get out and actually do some good work. Not linger in old childhood memories and regrets.

"No, no," The Madame shook her head. "I'm sending you to New York, with some of the older girls. There's work to be done, and Dreykov has few interests there. It's only temporary. Long enough to rebuild your aliases, and make some new ones. How does that sound?"

Dmitri knew he didn't actually have a choice in this. But he smiled, as was expected of him. A good performance. A good show. "Of course. Any targets in particular?"

"Not at the moment," she smiled, apologetic. "But you will have to undergo reconditioning for this. Mind, body, and soul, you must become a different person."

"I understand," Dmitri said. It wouldn't be his first time.

He remembered the last time the Madame had sent him to New York. Yes, it was to return to his mother, but the Madame had soothed him with an assurance that it wouldn't be time wasted.

How she had given him an envelope, and told him not to worry about the details. They'll take care of all the arrangements, the timing, the location. All he had to do was be there.

No danger, no strife. Not really, not so long as he pretended to be sweet Dmitri Kasyanenko, Diana Hawkins' son, pretty and bold and a wonderful dancer but with poor grades in American classes. For no reason at all, besides needing a helpful tutor to guide his way.

His first real target, all at fifteen years old. Pulling out that photo of a girl no older than him, blonde curly hair and gray eyes. A flat, expressionless face staring back into his, as cold and dangerous as any enemy of the Red Room.

"Amelia Fletcher is not to be underestimated, my boy," The Madame had told him. "But she'll never see you coming."

Dmitri wouldn't remember those words. He never remembered much at all when he returned to his mother. Couldn't risk it, had to be wiped every time. It had scared him before, not knowing if he'd ever get those memories back. But he always did. Every time, without fail. He was always meant to return to the Red Room.

It would always be his home.

"When do we begin?"