This was written in response to a prompt given to for a self-imposed challenge. The challenge? "The Kremlin"
The son of a former spy and sometimes
assassin, he had always been
discreet. After all, he’d witnessed his mother’s "accidental"
death at the hands of her husband’s political beliefs when he was
five, and had only narrowly escaped the accident himself.
But watching
Karina walk away, with her firm but sad "No" still
constricting his heart, he wondered if he’d been keeping secrets
for too long.
"Karina!
Wait!"
Making a scene
went against everything his father had ever taught him. Hiding was
best done by being ordinary. But ordinary was letting his future
walk out the door.
"Let’s
talk."
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