“I’m aware and I thank you,” I assured him.
“I have done as you asked. They wait.”
“Good, because I will leave no stone unturned to find out who has betrayed me. If that means I have to raze the city when I return, I will.”
He laughed once—no humor. “Always did prefer war.”
What he didn’t understand was that I didn’t prefer war; I simply didn’t tolerate a lack of loyalty.
“You came alone,” he observed as no one else exited the plane after me.
“Not even those I trust know exactly why I came.”
“And do you really?” His brow lifted. “Trust anyone?”
For a second, I thought of Sofia. Her shaking hands. Her stubborn chin. The new life she carried. The warmth in her voice when she whispered, come back to us.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
Viktor’s gaze sharpened. “Then you are vulnerable.”
“I am prepared,” I corrected. The snowflakes seemed to grow as we stood silent.
His lips twitched—proud and worried all at once. “Good. Because even here, whispers reach us. Someone inside wants you weakened. Maybe dead.”
I didn’t flinch. “I had a feeling, which was why when you called, I wasn’t surprised.”
He gestured to the convoy. “Come. I’ve gathered my most trusted men for you. Old guard first. Loyalty proven by scars and actions, not words. Brute strength, cunning, and unfailing commitment.”
We climbed into the second SUV. Snow and sleet hammered the windshield. Moscow loomed ahead—iron and ice and memories.
As the convoy rolled, Viktor spoke again. “And the girl?”
I didn’t ask how he knew. “She is protected.”
“Protection is not a guarantee if an enemy wants her badly enough.”
My jaw locked. “They do not want her. They want leverage against me.”
“Same thing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “And my point exactly. Because either way, she is your weakness,” he confirmed.
“No.” I stared out into the blizzard. “She is my line. Anyone who crosses it… dies.”
Viktor studied me—long, hard, knowing. “Then God help the world when someone tries.”
He didn’t say if… he said when.
Sokolov Compound, Outside Moscow
We pulled into a fortified compound—stone walls, iron gates, snow-covered outbuildings lit by harsh industrial lamps. My uncle’s compound. Though from the outside it appeared to be a prison, no one questioned a thing. I was sure the government and local police were well compensated to turn a blind eye.
Men gathered as we exited the vehicle. Some nodded in respect. Some stared too long.
Checking for cracks. Weak links. They were like sharks watching for blood in the water.
Boldly meeting their gazes, I stood taller. They needed to know I was an effective leader and that meant I showed no fear. No hesitation. Then I followed Viktor inside the building I’d spent countless days in throughout my youth.
Inside, a veritable war room waited—maps, phones, intercepted intel. Names circled in red. Armenians. Chechens. One familiar Russian name was underlined twice.
