But that was before.
Before grief cleaved her into two separate people.
“You realize the only reason you get away with that shit is because of our shared past, right?”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, if any other person had touched Willow the way you did, I would have killed them myself.”
She raises her eyebrows and stares at me for a long while, trying to gauge how serious I am. “Fuck. You mean it.”
“Of course I mean it.”
“I’m afraid you’re just making me more jealous.”
“I get it, Brit. You’re bitter and angry. Join the fucking club. But when it comes to Willow, there’s a line. Even someone as broken as you can understand that.”
I can see the twitch in her jaw. I can see the losses she’s suffered over the years. Not just her happily ever after, but the person she used to be along with it.
“I got it, boss,” she says, sharp and professional.
She’s affected. It’s obvious in the way she straightens her spine and lifts her chin. I hate going don on her. But there are some things I can’t let slide.
“I wonder if you do.”
She glances over at me. “You may not realize this, but I do understand.”
“I know.”
She nods. “He was the same way with me. Fiercely protective. Possessive, sometimes. But I loved it. I was happy to belong to him.”
“You didn’t just belong to him,” I correct. “You belonged with him. You were his partner.”
Her mask drops for a moment. And in that moment, I see the loss. All these years later and it’s still there just as fresh as the day it happened.
“I couldn’t have done this without you, you know?” I say.
She smirks, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s losing her touch. “That’s very charitable of you, but we both know it’s bullshit. You’ve always been determined, and you always have a bulletproof plan.”
“You know as well as I do that plans don’t always pan out. There are too many moving targets. Too many changing circumstances.”
“All true,” she says. “But if anyone can do it, you can. If I hadn’t been in the picture, you would have found another way in.”
She’s right. I would have. But I don’t think it’d be helpful to agree to that now. Things feel fragile.
“I’m glad you were in the picture,” I say instead.
She doesn’t say anything, but her fingers start to tremble.
I move forward. “Ariel.”
She snaps her gaze to me. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, her face twisted into anger. “Don’t. That is not my name. Not anymore.”
I ignore her and walk forward. “Brit is who you are with him. Brit is a persona, a character we invented to get close to Belov. She is not who you are.”
“Isn’t she?” Ariel asks. “Because I’ve done horrible things, Leo. I’ve killed men and tortured women. I’ve hurt so many, many people.”
“And you’ve done it all under his orders. That’s not on you.”
“Is it on me if I enjoyed it?” she whispers. “Giving other people pain made me feel less of it myself.”
I stare at her, unblinking. Then I reach out and take her hand. “You did what you had to do to survive and cope. And to infiltrate Belov’s circle. Don’t think I don’t understand how much you had to sacrifice along the way.”
She blinks away her tears and pulls her hand from mine. “Sometimes, I think I might be going insane,” she says softly. “Sometimes, I think it would have been easier if I’d died that day. With him. Like Petyr and Logan did.”
“Ariel…”
She flinches again. Then, with a sharp exhale, she straightens her posture and puts her game face back on. Tucking away years of pain behind a mask that has, bit by bit, become fused to her face. “We’re getting off track. I came here to give you sensitive information. I didn’t want to risk using a phone.”
There’s no point trying to press the issue.
“How much time do you have?” I ask.
“Spartak is in Russia right now. He’ll stay there for at least another week. Which is why I’m here.”
“And if he checks in on you?”
“My alibi will hold up.”
I nod. Ariel’s not a stupid woman. If she says she’s covered her tracks, then I’m not going to question her. “Why’s he in Russia at all?”