They cut through the darkness like eyes, blindingly bright. Two black Cadillac Escalades roll slowly through the chain-link gates. They move with the heavy, arrogant weight of armored vehicles. The tires crunch loudly on the gravel.
My heart kicks against my ribs.Thump-thump-thump.The tracker on my ankle must be transmitting a frantic rhythm to the phone in Silas’s pocket, but he doesn't react. He stands perfectly still, a statue carved from night.
The cars stop. They form a V-formation at the edge of the light, blocking the exit.
Doors open.
Men spill out. Six of them. They are big, wearing expensive coats that bulge around the waistlines where their weapons are hidden. They fan out, scanning the perimeter, checking the shadows.
They don't look up. People never look up.
Then, the back door of the lead car opens.
Nikolai Sokolov steps out.
Even from this distance, he radiates a terrifying, cold charisma. He is wearing a camel-hair coat over a pristine suit, a white scarf draped casually around his neck. He looks like he’s arriving at the opera, not a derelict shipyard in Brooklyn to buy a woman.
He walks into the circle of light.
He stops ten feet from Silas.
The silence stretches, taut as a piano wire. The wind whistles through the gaps in the shipping containers, a mournful, hollow sound.
"Silas," Nikolai says. His voice carries effortlessly in the quiet night, rich and amused. "You look terrible."
"I’ve had a bad week," Silas replies. His voice is flat, defeated. He hunches his shoulders slightly, shrinking himself. It’s a masterclass in deception.
"A bad week," Nikolai chuckles. "That is an understatement. Your accounts are frozen. Your house is a ruin. Your reputation is in tatters. I hear even the rats are fleeing your ship."
"You won," Silas says. "Okay? You won. You broke the bank."
"I broke the man," Nikolai corrects him. He takes a step closer, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "I expected a fight, Vane. I expected you to go down shooting. But here you are... waiting in the cold to make a deal."
"I’m a businessman," Silas says. "I know when an asset becomes a liability."
I grit my teeth. I know it’s a line. I know it’s part of the script we wrote together in the loft two hours ago. But hearing him call me aliabilitystill sends a spike of irrational hurt through me.
"And the girl?" Nikolai asks, looking around. "Where is the merchandise?"
"She’s in the car," Silas says, gesturing vaguely toward the shadows behind him where the Bronco is parked (empty). "She’s tied up. She’s... spirited. She might bite."
Nikolai touches his chest, wincing slightly. He remembers the knife.
"I know she bites," he says softly. "That is why I am going to enjoy pulling her teeth out. One by one."
A chill that has nothing to do with the wind sweeps over me. I grip the detonator tighter. My finger trembles on the button.
Just give the signal, Silas. Let me blow him to hell.
"I want safe passage," Silas says. "I give you the girl. You call off the Feds. You unfreeze the accounts. I leave New York. You never see me again."
"You think you are in a position to negotiate?" Nikolai sneers. "I could kill you right now and take her."
"You could," Silas agrees. "But then you don't get the codes."
"Codes?"
"The encryption keys to the offshore accounts," Silas lies. "I moved the liquid assets before you froze the mains. Fifty million. It’s locked in a cloud server. I die, the key dies. You get the girl, but you lose the money."
