Dmitri studies the monitors mounted where expensive paintings used to hang. Those walls once carried photographs to sell the lie of a perfect marriage. Now, they’re plastered with tactical maps and enemy approach routes.
“Clear channels confirmed,” Boris continues. “Viktor’s team is holding at the warehouse district, waiting to move.” He adjusts the radio. “The disinformation’s working. Our sources tell Viktor you and Katya fled here alone after shooting Alexei. As far as he knows, you’re isolated.”
“And Alexei?” Dmitri asks.
“Still in the hospital. Under guard. Furious. Planning retaliation against you.” Boris allows himself a thin smile. “Viktor believes every word.”
I watch them move—soldiers checking sectors, radios hissing— and the place feels smaller and meaner now that I know.
Last time we were here,every line was scripted to sell the fake marriage. He’d take my hand at dinner and tell invented stories about our courtship. We’d walk the lake while he fed me memories I didn’t have.
It was psychological warfare to keep me dependent and unsure of who I was.
Anya comes in with a laptop and a fat stack of intercepted comms. “Viktor’s assault team is moving tonight. I’ve been on FSB channels. They’re running full military protocols.”
“Numbers?” Alexei calls from the window. His arm hangs in a sling, but he won’t get stuck in the backup room.
I shift, careful of the stitches in my shoulder. I could sit this out, but neither Alexei nor I will let this be someone else’s fight.
“Minimum of fourteen, possibly as many as eighteen. They brought night vision systems and heavy assault weapons. They’re planning to eliminate everyone connected to Pavel’s death.”
“Which includes all of us,” Dmitri says.
“And Viktor thinks it’s just you and me,” I add. “Two fugitives. Defenseless.”
That lie is our weapon. He expects to find us cornered. Instead, he’ll walk into a kill box.
Dmitri’s men will hold the house, baiting Viktor’s assault team into what looks like a desperate last stand. Alexei’s crew will cut the exits and set the crossfire.
Viktor thinks this will be easy. He has no idea he’s walking into a trap he won’t crawl out of.
“Status on backup comms?” Anya asks, fingers flying over the keys.
“Redundant channels live,” Boris replies. “If they jam primaries, we switch to secondary.”
“What about Viktor?” I ask. “He’s not going to personally lead this assault.”
“Viktor doesn’t need to be here,” Dmitri replies while adjusting camera angles on the surveillance system. “Once we eliminate his operational capacity, he becomes just another corruptintelligence officer with no resources and plenty of enemies inside the FSB.”
“You think that neutralizes him?”
“Viktor without his people solves itself. “Other FSB factions will clean him up once they find out he’s been running off-book ops and selling state secrets.”
Alexei checks his watch and winces as the movement pulls at his injured shoulder. “Full darkness in seventy minutes. If they move tonight, contact should be any minute.”
“Final equipment verification,” Dmitri commands through his radio. “All personnel armed and in assigned positions. All teams prepare to execute on my signal.”
Acknowledgments snap through the room as men finish prep. This isn’t last-minute improvisation. We have numbers, positions, coordination, and a single voice calling the shots.
“Movement on East cams,” Anya announces. “Three vehicles approaching through the forest access road.”
We crowd the monitors. Black SUVs crawl up the dirt road in tight formation, using professional spacing, with weapons visible through tint. The discipline says they aren’t amateurs.
“Confirmed hostile approach,” I tell the room. “Military formation is FSB operational protocol. That’s definitely Viktor’s remaining network.”
“All teams, contact imminent,” Dmitri broadcasts through the radio system. “Execute defensive positions now.”
Soldiers take their stations, and Alexei moves to the rear to coordinate. Anya settles at her comms hub, where she can monitor both friendly and enemy transmissions.
