All Chapters of PERKS OF THE POSITION : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

GERALDShe wouldn't divulge information or tell me anything no matter how many times I asked her.The morning sun over the Hampshire estate offered no warmth. It cut through the high arching windows of my private study in cold, sharp shafts of white light, showing the fine dust settled over the polished mahogany desk.Veronica had gone down to the sub-basement holding suites at 06:00 AM sharp, her spectacles on, her tailored blazer back in place, ready to oversee Catya Volkova’s integration into our tactical grid. She looked seamless. Flawless. The cool, impenetrable queen who had just spent the night locked in my arms in a cloud of steam and marble.But the dark, purple bruises I had felt on her hips; the ones I knew hadn't come from my hands were still burning in my mind.I stood behind my desk, my broad hands rested flat against the dark wood, my chest heavy. My instincts, honed over twenty years of command, were screaming. Veronica was a master of asymmetric operations, but she di

GERALDThe silence inside the briefing room was suffocating.It wasn't peaceful. It was the kind of silence that came just before everything fell apart.Veronica stood a few feet inside the doorway, perfectly composed. Her green blazer was immaculate, her silver-rimmed glasses catching the dim light overhead. To anyone else, she looked calm and in control.To me, she looked untouched.As if the last forty-eight hours had never happened.As if she hadn't walked into the Kremlin and let another man use her body to secure Catya's freedom.As if she hadn't come home afterward, climbed into my bed, and kissed me like nothing had changed.The images I'd seen refused to leave my mind.Nikolai's hand wrapped around her jaw.Elena's lips against her throat.Veronica's expression;cold, calculating, enduring every second because she believed the mission demanded it.The memory burned behind my eyes."Gerald," she said again, her voice calm and steady. "Carolina has regained consciousness. Her co

VERONICA The Great Hall of the University of London buzzed with quiet celebration.Golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting colourful patterns across the centuries-old stone floor. The scent of polished oak, fresh flowers and old books drifted through the air as proud families gathered to celebrate the graduating class of 2026.I stood just outside the hall beneath one of the stone archways, dressed in my black academic gown. The velvet hood of my Master of Laws rested neatly across my shoulders, and my silver-rimmed glasses caught the warm afternoon light as I watched graduates embrace their families.Six minutes earlier, my name had been called.Veronica Everest. Summa Cum Laude.The applause had been generous.To everyone else, today marked the end of three years of relentless study.To me, it was simply official recognition of skills I had already been using for years. Law, after all, was another form of strategy. Another system of rules. Ano

GERALDThe war room was unusually quiet.Rain hammered against the reinforced structure above us, but five levels underground, all I could hear was the steady sound of servers and the occasional scrape of a chair.The air smelled of burnt coffee and exhaustion.I sat at the head of the long oak table, hands resting in front of me, forcing myself to stay still even though every muscle in my body was coiled tight.Norton, my deputy director, looked like he hadn't slept in days. He kept scrolling through threat reports on his encrypted tablet, his face growing paler with every update.Across from him sat Russian President Nikolai Rasputin.Age had caught up with him over the past three years, but it hadn't softened him. His expression remained as unreadable as ever. A glass of vodka rested beside him while his fingers drummed lazily against his leg.Between us, a holographic map glowed crimson, covering Eastern Europe and the North Sea.General Laurant broke the silence."The Red Citadel

VERONICAThe air inside the Whitehall War Room was thick enough to chew. It was ninety percent recycled oxygen, ten percent adrenaline and sweat of grown up panicked men.I stepped through the reinforced blast doors with Carolina two paces behind my left shoulder.Every head in the room snapped in our direction. Norton dropped his tablet. General Vance-Laurant froze mid-sentence. At the head of the long oak table, Nikolai Rasputin’s heavy eyebrows shot up, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face and then there was Gerald.He looked broader, grayer at the temples, and far more rigid than I remembered. He was standing, his massive hands planted flat on the polished mahogany, wearing a bespoke suit that couldn't quite mask the absolute tension locked in his shoulders. The platinum band on his left ring finger glinted beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.I did not flinch. I did not pause. My silver-rimmed spectacles adjusted the ambient lighting in my retinas, mapping the room