Chapter 711: FBI Agent - Milf Claire Starling

Natalya nodded, her forehead resting against mine. "Together," she echoed, her voice softer now, filled with something deeper than frustration—hope, trust, love.

She sighed, her breath warm against my skin. "Promise me you won’t do anything reckless, Viper. Not until we know more. I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever."

I tightened my arms around her, my voice filled with sincerity. "I promise, Natalya. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll face this together, just like we always do."

She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I love you, Viper. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible."

I pressed another kiss to her forehead, my heart swelling with love and devotion. "I love you too, Natalya. Always."

Natalya pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her fingers still tangled in my hair, her breath warm against my lips. The air between us was thick with something more than just desire—it was trust, love, and a silent promise that no matter what came next, we’d face it side by side.

"We have to move," she murmured, her voice low but urgent, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "And stay underground for a while. Just until we figure out how to handle Andrey and the FBI."

I nodded, my hand still resting on the small of her back, pulling her just a little closer. "I know. We’ll be careful."

She let out a shaky breath, her forehead resting against mine for just a second longer before she forced herself to pull away. The loss of her warmth was immediate, but the determination in her eyes burned brighter than ever.

"I’ll go talk to Polina," she said, her voice already shifting back into that commanding tone I knew so well. "She’ll arrange everything—the safe house, new identities, whatever we need. We can’t stay here any longer than necessary."

I watched as she stood, her body moving with that effortless grace that always made my chest tighten. She adjusted her clothes, her fingers lingering on the fabric as if she were already missing the closeness we’d just shared.

"I’ll be right back," she promised, her eyes locking onto mine one last time before she turned and walked out the door.

The moment Natalya stepped out, I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying over the screen as I activated

SERA

with a sense of urgency. "Pull up everything on Andrey. Now. Every deal, every connection, every damn whisper."

The screen lit up with a flood of classified files, each one more damning than the last. My stomach twisted as I read through the details.

Andrey wasn’t just Vito’s older brother—he was a calculating snake, a man who had spent years playing both sides of the law. The files revealed a web of deals he’d made with the FBI, feeding them information on Vito’s arms trafficking operations in Russia.

But it wasn’t out of some misplaced sense of justice. No. Andrey had been setting up his own brother for years, waiting for the perfect moment to take over Vito’s empire. And now, with Vito dead, he saw his chance.

But the worst part? The FBI wasn’t just using Andrey—they were protecting him in exchange for Nikolai’s head.

I scrolled deeper, my jaw clenching as I read the terms of their agreement:

Andrey would deliver Nikolai to the FBI, alive and ready for prosecution. In return, the FBI would turn a blind eye to Andrey’s own criminal operations—as long as he kept feeding them intel. And the kicker? Andrey demanded me. Alive, if possible. Dead, if necessary. The FBI didn’t care either way, as long as Nikolai was theirs.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath.

But it got worse.

The files showed that Andrey had been manipulating the FBI for months, feeding them just enough to keep them happy while he built his own power base. And now, with Vito gone, he was making his move. The FBI was giving him full protection, a team of agents to back him up, and most dangerously—

Agent Claire Starling.

I pulled up her file, and my blood ran cold.

Claire Starling wasn’t just some rookie agent. She was a veteran, a woman who had spent years undercover in some of the most dangerous cartels in the world. She was ruthless, intelligent, and deadly. And she was Andrey’s handler.

The photo attached to her file showed a woman in her late thirties, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, her sharp green eyes staring into the camera with an intensity that made my skin prickle. But it wasn’t just her eyes that caught my attention. It was everything else.

She was stunning—tall, with curves that filled out her tailored suit in a way that made it hard to focus.

The suit hugged her hourglass figure, the fabric straining slightly over her full, round breasts and the flared hips that made my mind wander to places it shouldn’t. Her legs—long, toned, and endless—were encased in sheer black stockings, leading down to a pair of fuck-me heels that made my throat go dry.

A hot milf, mother of two daughters, and from the looks of it, just as dangerous as she was beautiful.

There was another photo—this one less professional. Claire was in a tight black dress, her hair loose and cascading down her shoulders, her lips painted a deep, sinful red.

The dress clung to her generous cleavage, the neckline dipping just enough to tease, her toned legs on full display. She was leaning against a bar, a smirk playing on her lips, her green eyes smoldering with confidence and seduction. The kind of woman who could ruin a man with just a look.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The door to the hospital room creaked open, and Natalya stepped back inside, her expression all business again. "Everything’s set. Polina’s got the safe house ready. We’re moving now."

I nodded, pushing the thoughts of Claire out of my mind for the moment. "Good. Let’s go."

We drove in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. Natalya’s fingers were tangled with mine, her grip tight, as if she were afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

When we reached Natalya’s villa, she moved quickly, packing only the essentials—weapons, cash, a few changes of clothes. Helen hovered nearby, her expression nervous but determined.

"We’re taking Helen with us," Natalya said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "She’s seen too much. She’s safer with us than out there alone."

I didn’t protest. Helen had proven herself more than once, and Natalya was right—she was safer with us.