Identifying features: See attached photographs
Requirements: Capture ALIVE, deliver INTACT
Location: NYC area, likely Brooklyn
Payment: $500,000 US upon delivery
Condition requirements: No permanent damage, no missing parts, no chemical contamination
Contact: [encrypted]
"Intact," I said, the word like broken glass in my mouth.
"You know what that means," Nikolai said quietly.
I did. In their world—the world of organ trafficking and human commodities—"intact" meant all pieces present and functional. It meant Maya wasn't just a loose end to tie up. She was inventory. Product. Worth more alive because her organs were young and healthy.
My hands curled into fists hard enough that my knuckles cracked.
"There's more," Maks said, fingers flying over his keyboard. "The pharmaceutical connection Maya mentioned? It's not onecompany. It's a network. Shell corporations layered on shell corporations, but I've traced the money."
New images appeared on screen. Corporate structures that looked like spider webs. Bank accounts in the Caymans, Switzerland, Singapore. And at the center of it all, a name that made my blood run cold.
"Belyaev Holdings," I read. "Anton's exile fund."
"Brand isn't just working with the Belyaevs," Nikolai said. "He's their primary source of income now. The organ trafficking funds everything else—the drugs, the weapons, the expansion into our territory. Maya isn't just a witness. She's the thread that unravels their entire operation."
"And she's valuable," Maks added, pulling up medical records that he definitely hadn't obtained legally. "Her blood type, her tissue markers—she's what they call a 'universal match.' Her organs could go to almost anyone."
The monster in my chest—quiet all morning, satisfied by Maya's presence—woke up hungry. Not the clean hunger of necessary violence, but something darker. The kind of hunger that had earned me my reputation. The kind that left messages written in blood and bone.
"Five hundred thousand," I said, voice coming out like gravel. "They put a price on her like she's—"
"Merchandise," Nikolai finished. "Which tells us how desperate they are. That's ten times the usual bounty, even for high-value targets. Brand's operation must be struggling without her."
"He trained her," I said, pieces clicking together in my mind. "She knows his techniques, his contacts, his entire system. Without her, he has to rebuild from scratch."
"Or," Maks said quietly, "he harvests her and sells the parts. Either way, he wins."
The wood of the chair armrest creaked under my grip. I looked down, surprised to see I'd splintered it. Hadn't even noticed.
"There's a team already looking," Maks continued, because apparently this could get worse. "Professional trackers. The kind who find people who don't want to be found. They're checking hospitals, clinics, anywhere someone with medical training might go."
"She's safe here," Nikolai said, but I heard the unspoken for now at the end.
"The compound is secure," I agreed, "but she can't stay locked inside forever. She's already climbing the walls, and it's only been days."
"Then we need to move first," Nikolai said. "Take Brand down before he can mobilize fully."
I thought about Maya sleeping in my bed, trusting me to keep her safe. About the way she'd played with the kittens yesterday, smiled at something normal and bright. About the marks I'd left on her skin, the promises I'd made with my body and words.
"When?" I asked.
"Soon," Nikolai said. "But we need to be smart about this. Brand has connections in the NYPD, the FBI, probably higher. We move wrong, and Maya ends up in federal custody. And we both know what happens to witnesses in federal custody when there's this much money involved."
They disappeared. Suicide by two bullets to the back of the head. Or they simply vanished, their organs appearing on the black market within hours.
"What do you need from me?" I asked, though what I really wanted was an address. A location. Five minutes alone with Brand and my favorite knife.
