Chapter 730: Natalya’s Provocation
Irene and Alisa moved with cold efficiency, separating us without hesitation. Claire’s voice cut through the tension like a blade as they dragged her and Yelena toward a different room. "Where are you taking him?!" she demanded, her voice sharp with fury.
Polina didn’t flinch. "The boss wants to et both of you," she said, her tone calm but final. "He isn’t needed. So he needs to wait."
I t Claire’s eyes, forcing a reassurance I didn’t entirely feel into my voice. "Don’t worry. I’ll be fine."
Claire’s glare could’ve lted steel, but she didn’t fight as Irene and Alisa led her away. Yelena, ever the wildcard, shot
a look that was equal parts I’ll kill them all and don’t do anything stupid. Then she was gone too, disappearing down the hallway with the two bodyguards.
Polina gestured for
to follow her, her grip firm but not unkind as she guided
into a separate room. The door clicked shut behind us, the sound final.
"Where’s the boss?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of questions in my mind.
Polina didn’t look at . "She’s in that room with them."
She.
My pulse spiked.
Polina turned to , her expression unreadable. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer than before. "I an... your injuries. Are they fine now?"
I t her gaze, my voice even. "I’m fine."
She nodded, then moved to the far wall, where a flat-screen TV was mounted. With a press of a button, it flickered to life, revealing a live feed from the room where Claire, Yelena, and Natalya now stood.
Polina didn’t look at
as she spoke. "The boss placed caras in the room. She wanted you to watch this."
The room on the screen was tense, the air thick with unspoken threats and simring rage. Claire stood in the center, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her fingers digging into her own skin as if she needed the pain to stay grounded.
Yelena was beside her, her usual smirk replaced by a sharp, calculating focus, her eyes darting between Natalya and the door like she was already planning three different ways to kill everyone in the room if things went south.
Natalya leaned against the desk, her posture deceptively relaxed, but there was sothing in her eyes—a cold, calculating gleam that made my stomach twist. Diana was standing behind Natalya with a gun in her hand.
"You’re Natalya," Claire said, her voice low and lethal, each word clipped with barely contained fury. "Why have you brought us here?"
Natalya’s lips curled into a slow, mocking smile, her fingers tapping idly against the desk. "I just wanted to have a little chat," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "After all, we have so much to discuss, don’t we?"
Yelena’s patience snapped like a wire under too much tension. "Quit stalling," she hissed, her voice sharp as a blade. "Get to the point, or I swear to God, I’ll make sure you regret wasting our ti."
Natalya didn’t even flinch. Instead, she reached into her coat with deliberate slowness, pulling out a thick file and tossing it onto the table between them. The sound it made as it hit the surface was loud in the silence. "We share a common enemy," she said, her voice suddenly cold, all traces of amusent gone. "And if you’re smart, you’ll listen to what I have to say."
Claire’s eyes flicked to the file, then back to Natalya, her expression guarded, her body coiled like a spring. "How do I know this is true?" she demanded, her voice tight with suspicion. "How do I know you aren’t just playing another one of your gas?"
Natalya’s smirk faded, her expression darkening into sothing colder, sothing that made my skin crawl. "Because, Agent Starling," she said, her voice dropping into a tone that was almost conversational, "I don’t have ti to waste on children." She paused, her gaze locking onto Claire’s with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Not when the Italians are circling like vultures, ready to pick our bones clean."
Claire didn’t react outwardly, but I could see it—the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. She wasn’t buying Natalya’s act. Not yet. But she wasn’t dismissing it, either. The file on the table was still there, untouched, like a grenade with the pin pulled.
Then, without warning, Claire turned to Yelena, her voice sharp and decisive. "We’re leaving." She looked back at Natalya, her expression unreadable. "I’ll verify this," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "If it’s true... I don’t mind working with you to deal with those Italians."
Natalya’s lips curled into a slow, calculating smile. "As you please," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "And as a gift, I’ve prepared a car for you. Loaded it with all kinds of guns and ammunition." She gestured lazily toward the door. "Think of it as a gesture of goodwill."
Claire nodded, her expression still guarded, but there was a flicker of sothing in her eyes—hope, maybe, or just the desperate need for answers. She took a step toward the door, then paused, turning back to Natalya. "Where is Jack?"
Natalya’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes glead with sothing cruel. "Oh," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "he was useless. I asked my people to kill him." She shrugged, as if she were talking about the weather. "He would’ve just been baggage. And you don’t need to thank ."
The words hit like a gunshot.
Claire’s entire body went rigid, her face draining of color. "What?" she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Natalya’s smirk was pure venom. "Jack," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Such a sha, really. He was... useless to . So I had him taken care of."
Claire’s breath hitched, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "No," she said, her voice breaking, "tell
it’s not true." Her eyes were wide, her expression crumbling, the carefully constructed mask of control shattering in an instant. "No... Jack..."
Natalya’s laugh was cold, mocking. "Why are you crying?" she said, her voice laced with amusent. "He was just no one. A civilian who got in over his head. What did you expect?"
Claire’s voice was raw, her body trembling. "I’ll kill you," she snarled, her words trembling with fury and grief. "He was my.... my..... my friend."
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