Cellie's POV
He told me everything over breakfast.
Not everything everything, the way that word had been carrying the weight of the full picture for weeks, but the specific everything he had promised, the pieces he had been holding and had decided I was ready for and that the morning was the right time for, and he told me while he made an omelet from the three eggs and leftover potatoes in my fridge with the focused efficiency of a man who could apparently cook under any circumstances.
I sat on the counter and listened.
He told me about the three names Grigori had given him. The three dons who had been photographed at a restaurant meeting with Alexei's right-hand man. He told me what their confirmation on Wednesday would mean, both operationally and personally to his father, and his voice was the careful one when he said that part, the one he used for things that had a cost he was not pretending did not exist.
