Figures burst into view from the tree line, four, five, maybe more. All dressed in black, moving fast. Tactical. Clean.
I run. Or at least try to.
The first one grabs me by the arm and I twist hard, driving my elbow into his neck. He grunts and staggers, but two more are on me instantly. I lash out with a boot and catch one in the knee, but it only buys me seconds.
A gloved hand yanks my hair. Another pins my wrist. Then I see the glint of a syringe. No time to scream. Pain lances through my arm as the needle plunges in. Ice blooms beneath my skin.
Tatiana’s voice is somewhere behind me. Calm. Unhurried. “Don’t fight it. We need you alive.”
I struggle, but I’m slipping away fast. Muscles failing, vision clouding, trees spinning skyward.
The last thing I see is Tatiana’s face, framed by sunlight through the leaves.
Then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER 32
ASTRID
The world slips in and out, like light through torn fabric.
Darkness. Motion. A low rumble beneath me—the unmistakable rhythm of wheels over road.
Voices.
The rough interior of a van swims into view. Dim light. Metal walls. My head rests awkwardly against a crate. My wrists are bound, my hands numb. My limbs feel like they belong to someone else.
Across from me, Tatiana is on the phone. Her voice is low and curt. I have no idea who she’s talking to.
“Yes,” she says. “We have her. She’s en route.” A pause. “She’s sedated, not dead. Don’t be dramatic.”
I try to move. My fingers twitch but everything below my waist feels as heavy as lead.
“I want assurances,” Tatiana snaps. “After this, I want my seat at the table. No more stalling.” She mumbles something I can’thear before saying, “I’ll handle Yuri. I know how to cause him doubt. He already has it, he just won’t admit it yet.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. I focus everything I have on moving. Blinking. Breathing through the nausea. My brain’s still fogged with whatever they pumped into me, but the fear cuts through it like acid.
The babies.
I try to speak, but it comes out as barely a whimper.
Tatiana turns toward me. “She’s awake,” she says. “I’ll call you when we arrive.”
She hangs up and steps closer, crouching down beside me. The light shifts, outlining her like some sainted statue. Her eyes, though, are sharp and cruel. “As long as you play nice,” she says softly, brushing hair from my face with mock tenderness, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Her voice dips. “The Ivanovs, on the other hand…” A small shrug. “We’ll see.”
I try to speak, to tell her she doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with. Yuri will never stop looking for me. Elena, Lev, someone, will come for me. But my mouth won’t cooperate. The words dissolve before they leave my tongue.
The van lurches, then slows. We’re stopping.
Tatiana rises, smoothing her coat like she’s arriving at brunch. She knocks once on the metal wall. “She’s awake.”
The van door creaks open, letting in a wash of light before slamming shut again. And then she’s gone and I’m alone. I’m not sure I can move.
The van jolts forward again, then slows, tires crunching over gravel.
We’re out of the city, that much I’m certain of. No horns. No distant sirens. Just the wind and the low whine of the engine tapering off.
