Iosif is the first to speak. “If Inessa controls Anton’s network, she controls the blackmail archives.”
“And the release mechanism,” Iris adds quietly.
I pace to the far end of the room. My reflection moves with me in the glass—sharp, tired, reconstructed by violence and loss. Harper stands across from me, also reflected, but softer, steadier. The firelight gilds her edges. She looks like something carved from resolve.
“We change the plan,” I say. “This isn’t about stopping Anton anymore. He’s a dead man walking. Inessa is the threat.”
Harper nods, slow but certain. “Then we aim for her.”
When my eyes meet hers, the distance between us thins, the invisible wall we kept rebuilding around each other finally cracked beyond repair.
I move closer without thinking, straightening a stray lock of hair stuck to her coat. My knuckles graze her cheek. I think of everything that has led us here, to this moment.
I pull back before the moment can become something we can’t walk away from. Later, maybe.
If we survive.
“We leave before sunrise,” I say, voice low. “We hit the server before Inessa can move it. We expose her. And we end this.”
Iosif shifts uncomfortably. “This war… it’s consuming everything.”
I look at Harper again.
Her hand is on the window beside her, fingers brushing the cold glass. The city lights reflect around her like constellations trapped in ice. She seems smaller in the moment, but only because she’s surrounded by shadows too large for any one person to carry.
Her reflection is also studying me back. When she turns toward me again, there’s only resolve in her eyes, except a shade warmer.
“Harper,” I say quietly.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
For surviving, for fighting and for trusting me when I’ve given her every reason not to.
She swallows softly. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.”
Her lips part but nothing comes out.
Tomorrow, we walk into the final battlefield. But tonight… we allow the truth to breathe between us.
Chapter 20 - Harper
Moscow sleeps above us like a giant holding its breath, unaware that somewhere beneath its ribs, in the veins it forgot it had, we’re preparing to sever the last thread tying us to damnation.
The abandoned government complex rises from the outskirts like a mausoleum stripped of purpose, its concrete flayed by decades of frost. Damian kills the headlights, and the moon pools across the hood like spilled mercury. The air tastes of iron and rain, metallic enough to scrape the back of my throat.
“This is it,” I whisper, though the words feel too small for what waits below. The map in my hand glows faintly. It’s Anton’s own digital breadcrumbs, leading us back to the core he thought no one would ever reach.
The master server sits buried somewhere beneath this tomb of bureaucracy and ghosts. It’s the only key to clearing our names and burning his empire down.
Damian checks his weapon and I check the drive at my belt. He offers me a small nod, edged with something quieter.
Inside, the complex smells of mold and forgotten electricity. Stacks of file cabinets rust into the walls. Every step echoes like we’re intruders in a cathedral meant only for dust.
I feel the hum of buried circuits beneath us, like the building has a heartbeat that’s been dormant for years and is waking just for this.
