Four Years Ago

She didn't want to be here. Tess had only taken this op because she was trying to play nice with the agency, mostly for her team's sake because they were still pretty pissed they'd tried to have her killed. She was over it, they'd all known they would only tolerate her disobedience for so long but now they had learned that going after her or the people she loved was not something she would tolerate. And since she'd taken out the ring leaders of that scheme, five white men of course, two of which were in jail while the other three were dead, relations were easier. Technically three would have gone to prison but dear old Ralph had decided he would rather go out on his terms and she had no problem with that.

She'd known she could make things better.

And she'd done it her way, like she'd promised herself she would.

It was for the new director she was protecting this old ass Russian oligarch, and only so he could stand trial on American soil but now she was starting to think he wasn't worth it, especially when the man who wanted him dead was so dangerous. Alexander Mikhailov. A Moscow orphan who'd been enlisted into the Bratva as a child, slowly working his way up the ranks until he became an Avtorityet, a captain. Until something made him snap and he'd killed his entire crew, and then his Sovietnik and his Pakhan. A whole chapter of the organization wiped out, and many more in the consequent attempts to take him down. Attempts being the operative word because every effort had failed until finally they'd left him alone, this orphan turned soldier turned assassin.

Tess couldn't be sure what she would have thought of him three years ago but who she was today admired him. Which was why she was going to try really hard to just knock him out instead of killing him. She motioned for the bodyguard to take his boss to his car before she slipped into the hallway, just as Alexander came around the corner.

She knew he noticed her but he didn't seem to care, not until she got in his way and then he started upping his game, the best fight she'd had in months. He was good. Really good.

Better than her.

She realized it in the split second before the knife she hadn't seen drove towards her throat and had one more to embrace her death, actually found herself looking forward to it, to the chance to finally rest. But it never came.

"Stay." He ordered lowly, and though it made the tip of his blade pierce her flesh she nodded, pressing her hands flat against the wall behind her as he walked calmly away.

And she stayed where she was. Even when she heard the screaming that signified he was taking his time, Tess stayed put.

She knew an act of mercy when she saw one.

People always thought that a thing was just that, just the thing they knew it as and nothing else, but that wasn't true. Wasn't the way the world worked. Everything was more than met the eye, from people to places to everything in between, objects, feelings, noises. Tess was focused on the latter right now, a reminder she hadn't realized she'd needed until she heard it and now she was soaking it in as much as she could. Nine times out of ten when she heard a scream it was a wretched sound, an outlet to unleash pain, rage or grief. Or some combination of. Even screams of triumph signified that someone else had lost and even if it was deserved, even if it made the world a better place… That didn't stop their echo's from haunting her, lingering in her subconscious until she couldn't tell them apart anymore.

But these screams? High and low pitched, adrenaline filled shrieks that even if they ended sputtering always led to raucous laughter that emanated with pure joy…

That was a nice sound.

That was why she took these breaks, why every few months she picked a different spot on a map to go exploring, to remind herself of why she did what she did. For herself, yes, because there was a fire inside her she would not allow to go out, but also for them. For people who lived, loved, laughed and screamed and everything in between. Who were more than met the eye. Which was why when she finally rose from the surf and turned back to bar up the beach she didn't panic when she saw the man sitting alone at one of the tables.

Alexander Mikhailov.

Twirling the tiny umbrella that had been in his drink.

He dipped his chin before going back to watching the sunset but she still returned it before heading to the houseboat she'd rented, pausing a few times to warn the locals she'd gotten close to that no one, under any circumstances, should attempt to pickpocket him. Part of her wondered whether she should take her leave of the island but if he wanted her dead he would have killed her four months ago. And though she spent the next two nights on high alert for any new attempts, none came. He appeared to be here to enjoy himself and if she wasn't going to stop him he didn't seem inclined to stop her. But that didn't mean he would leave her alone.

"What did you tell them?"

His sudden appearance at her side a few evenings later startled her, and the poor merchant she'd been buying food from who went pale when they saw the knife she'd automatically whipped out. She tried not to take the chicken for free but they were insistent and since she wanted them to relax, and him to stop smirking she did, moving a few paces out of earshot before finally addressing him.

"What are you doing here?"

"On the island, for vacation. In this market, I want to know what you told them. Not one person has tried to steal from me." He explained, one blonde brow arching as she flushed. "Did you think I would kill them?"

She'd wondered.

He seemed to have no problem killing for revenge, or money, but fun?

Not from anything she'd been able to tell. And yet…

"I didn't want to put you in that position."

He didn't react but she swore she felt something soften in his grey gaze so even though it made zero sense when he turned to go Tess found herself calling after him.

"Have you ever had ayum betutu?"

Alex paused before looking over his shoulder, looking her up and down before he turned around fully. "Have you ever made it?"

"Not yet."

It felt like forever that they stared at each other, a recognition that neither understood, or even really liked, and yet they couldn't ignore it. So when he started walking in the direction of her houseboat she fell into step beside him, quiet, but relaxed.

Things were always more than met the eye.