He nods once, and that’s enough.
The air grows colder as we descend deeper, like the earth is warning us to turn around. Condensation beads on the pipes overhead, dripping a slow, rhythmic countdown. I trail my fingers along the wall; dust clings to my skin like the fingerprints of a thousand forgotten bureaucrats.
The static grows harsher. A shift, movement of sorts, happens in the air. Damian presses his finger to his lips, ears perked like a bloodhound.
We round the last corner and the tunnel widens into a chamber. Cables snake across the floor toward a cluster of equipment that shouldn’t be running but hums with a faint, defiant pulse.
And standing beside it, disheveled, trembling, eyes fever-bright—Anton.
He looks nothing like the polished kingpin wrapped in expensive suits. This version of him looks eaten from the inside out: stubble shadows his jaw, and his clothes hang loose, as though fear itself is wearing him.
His gun lifts at the same time Damian’s does.
“Don’t,” Anton rasps. “Just—don’t.”
I will my voice to come out cool despite my heart being in my throat.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
He laughs once, the sound brittle enough to shatter.
“You think I wanted this? You think I planned any of this?” His gaze darts between us, frantic, unhinged. “She betrayed me too.”
Damian stays silent, but his gaze is full of suspicion.
Anton swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Inessa. Thatsukahas the whole network. My network. She’s using it to blackmail governments, commanders, ministers and turning the Bratva into her personal empire. I created a weapon, and she stole the trigger.”
Wait a minute—
A tremor rolls through me.
The static in our headsets, the interference… the feeling of being watched by a presence that moves like smoke…
She’s already herein every wire, every circuit.
Anton steps closer, desperation bleeding through every twitch of his fingers.
“I came to destroy the last server before she gets to it. You have to let me. If she gets full access—”
Damian cuts him off, voice ice-smooth. “You expect us to trust you?”
“No,” Anton whispers. “I expect you to hate me enough to believe I’m terrified.”
He isn’t wrong.
The fear rolls off him in waves. But fear doesn’t make a man like him honest, it just makes him cornered.
Damian shifts his stance, angling himself protectively between me and Anton. I move to his side anyway.
I won’t hide behind him. Not here.
“Harper,” Damian murmurs, barely audible.
My hand hovers near the drive on my belt, towards the evidence that could burn Anton down. The same evidence he’s now pretending to help us safeguard.
The air curdles around us, waiting for one wrong move. I inhale, the air thick with metal and lies.
