Chapter 15 It's quiet, but that's alright. It's not an uncomfortable kind of quiet. I've been staring at the artificial stars so long they're burned into my retinas. When I blink, constellations dance behind my eyelids. We bypassed the itchy, uncomfortable planetarium seats for the cool floor of the stage. Without an audience or presenter, it feels like we're lying in an open field under the real night sky, infinite and overwhelming. But as much as half my brain is deadset on trying to take a bite out of the Little Dipper, the rest of me is all too focused on a minor distraction to my left. Because the space between Kovan and me feels charged, electric. I'm hyper-aware of the heat radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing just inches away. His hand is right there, right next to mine. "This is incredible, Luka," I whisper, as a way to distract myself from undue thoughts about his uncle. "I understand why you love it here." No response. "We lost him about ten minutes ago," Kovan murmurs. I turn my head to the right to find Luka's eyes closed, his breathing deep and even. His hair falls across his forehead in soft waves. I push myself up on one elbow, studying his sleeping face. That's when I see it-a perfectly round burn mark on his neck, about the size of a quarter. Kovan mirrors my position on Luka's other side, his jaw already tight. "Is that from⁠-?" "Cigarette." His voice turns to gravel. "Ihor did it three weeks after we buried my brother. Said he was tired of listening to Luka whine about missing his father." My stomach lurches. I reach out without thinking, brushing the hair from Luka's eyes with trembling fingers, softer than his own mother would ever do. "That man is a monster." "So then you understand why I need to get Luka away from him." Kovan reaches across me to join, stroking his nephew's hair with impossible gentleness. "I can storm in there, cause a scene, take Luka for a few weeks. But eventually, he has to go back. This time, I need a permanent solution." I swallow. I shudder to think what Kovan's "permanent solution" might look like if I don't play along. Something tells me it would involve a lot of blood. "Can I ask you something? And I want you to be honest." He nods. "Always." I take a breath, dreading what I'm about to say. "Why don't you just kill Ihor?" Even before the words have finished leaving my lips, I can't believe I'm saying them out loud. Kovan's mouth curves into something that might be a smile if it weren't so sharp. "Dr. Fairfax, you continue to surprise me." "I shouldn't have⁠-" "Do you know how many times I've fantasized about putting a bullet in his head?" His face is utterly emotionless, but the sound of his feral snarl does things to me it absolutely shouldn't. "Every time I see a new bruise on Luka, every time he flinches when someone raises their voice, I dream about watching the light leave Ihor's eyes." "It's not easy to kill someone." "It is for me," he says. "Especially someone who deserves it. And Ihor deserves it a thousand times over." I sit up, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Jesus, Kovan. We shouldn't be talking about this here." "What better place to discuss Luka's safety than somewhere sacred to him?" "We're discussing murder. I save lives for a living. This goes against everything I believe." "Trust me," he insists, "killing Ihor would save more lives than you know. Starting with Luka's." "Then why haven't you done it?" "Politics," he spits in disgust. ""Ihor has history with my family. Undeserved loyalty from men who knew him before they knew me. If I move against him without cause, I risk a war. And wars contain casualties." My blood turns cold. "You're talking about this like it's actually a war." "Because that's exactly what it is." His green eyes find mine in the dim light. When he looks at me like that-intense, unblinking-my breath catches in my throat. "The only difference is, I'm willing to fight dirty to protect what matters. The question is, are you?" I pick at my cuticles, a habit I haven't had since medical school. "Your world scares me." "Good. Fear keeps you alive." "Would agreeing to this make me a fool?" "Maybe. But it would also make you the woman who helped save a little boy's life." The words bludgeon me right in the chest. I think about every child I've lost, every time the equipment failed, every budget meeting where Jeremy smiled while cutting funding. How many kids have I watched suffer because I was too afraid to fight dirty? How many times have I wished that I just had a little more power, a little more strength, a little more willingness to do what must be done? And what is Kovan if not a man who does what must be done? I saw him in the hospital. He didn't hesitate, not once. He did what needed doing. He saved lives. He saved mine. He's the answer to a prayer I never dared voice aloud. Who am I to tell him no? Like he can sense how close I am to crumbling, he leans closer, his hips grazing mine. "This isn't about charity, Vesper." His voice drops lower. "You help me destroy my demons and I help you destroy yours. Simple as that." The offer hangs between us, tempting as original sin. I've been fighting the good fight for years with nothing to show for it. Maybe there's no such thing as a good fight. Maybe all fights are dirty by nature. "I want to help you," I begin. "Then help me." "... but I don't know if I can trust you." "Playing my girlfriend will give you plenty of time to figure that out." My heart skips. "We'd be spending time together?" "Every day. If we're going to convince a judge we're in love, we need to be believable." His eyes darken as they hold mine. "Convincing enough that no one questions what we do behind closed doors." The implication-or if not that, then the suggestion of "closed door" possibilities-makes my cheeks burn. "How convincing?" "As convincing as it takes." His gaze drops to my mouth for just a second before meeting my eyes again. "Think you can handle that, Doctor?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I couldn't even convince my ex I was worth staying for when we were actually together." He shakes his head like he won't accept my cowardice for an answer. "You're perfect for this job, Vesper. Trust me." I look down at Luka, so peaceful in sleep. So trusting that his uncle will keep him safe. "I need time to think." "So be it." He snaps his fingers and shadows emerge from the darkness-his guards, who I'd somehow forgotten were there. I clutch my chest. "That's terrifying." "You don't have to be afraid of me." His voice is soft now, almost tender. "I would never hurt you." I believe him. That's the most terrifying part of all. Kovan lifts Luka carefully, cradling him against his chest. The gentleness in his touch makes my throat tight. The walk to our cars is silent. I keep stealing glances at Kovan, but he's focused entirely on Luka, checking his breathing, adjusting his position, moving softly and slowly so as not to wake his nephew. In the parking lot, he passes Luka to one of his men with a whispered threat that makes the guard's face go pale. If you fucking wake him... And there it is-the reminder of what he really is. Gentle uncle one moment, violent bastard the next. Then he turns to look at me. "Let me drive you home." I shake my head. "It's fine. I have my car." "One of my men can follow us in it." "That's sweet, but I can manage. I'm fine, I promise." He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. I'm keenly aware of everything he is and everything he does to me-the rough calluses, the scarred knuckles, the surprising warmth, the softness of the heel of his palm. Above all, the way his thumb finds my racing pulse at my wrist. "I'm not the monster you think I am. To the rest of the world, I'm just a businessman." "Is that right?" "Scout's honor." I can't help but smile. "There's no way you were ever allowed to be a Boy Scout." "Only briefly," he admits. "It didn't take them long to decide I was perhaps not the best fit." He turns up the power in his gaze and skewers me in place. "Now or never, Doctor. Give me your answer." I know I'm going to regret this. I know this is the worst idea I've ever had. But when I look at him-when I really look at him-I don't see the man who held a gun on me in that supply closet. I see the man who saved his nephew's life. Who held me while bullets flew. Who treats an eight-year-old boy like he's the most precious thing in the world. What it comes down to in the end is this: Maybe, sometimes, you have to make a deal with the devil in order to save the angels. "You wore me down," I whisper. He keeps his smile caged. I should've known he wouldn't accept that wishy-washy bullshit. "Say it. I want to hear you say it." I take a deep breath, stepping closer to him under the moonlight. 'I'm in. You have yourself a deal, Kovan."