He looks towards the building and across the sidewalk. For a fraction of a second, something flickers across his face---fear? Maybe there's another gun pressed to another back. Maybe the Andropovs have pieces of him, too.
The thought dies as quickly as it forms. He killed any sympathy I had for him years ago, buried it under bruises and broken promises.
He's not my father anymore. He's just another man who thinks he owns me.
And I'm so f*****g tired of being owned.
"Are you clear on what you have to do?" he asks flatly.
"Crystal." I push open the door. "Betray everyone I love to help the people I hate. Should be a breeze."
It's hard work to limp my way toward the building. Not just because of the pain in my body, but because everything on the inside hurts even worse.
Samuil is gone.
