I fade in and out. My body’s still feels heavy, nerves dull beneath the drug.
The doors open with a low squeak.
Tatiana’s voice filters back in. “Get her inside. Carefully.”
Hands grab me—firm, but not cruel. They haul me upright and my knees buckle. I can’t stand on my own. My limbs hang loose, uncooperative. My head lolls. I try to speak, but it’s nothing more than a garbled breath, more plea than sentence.
I’m dragged out into the late afternoon light. It’s overcast—bright but washed out—like the color’s been drained from the world.
The building in front of us is five stories high, plain brick with darkened windows and no signage. It could be anything. Insurance. Records storage. A forgotten satellite office.
Inside, the lights hum. The floors are linoleum, worn through at the edges. There’s no art on the walls. No receptionist. Just a hallway lined with closed doors.
I’m taken to one of them. The guards don’t speak.
They open the door. Spalding’s waiting inside.
He’s neatly dressed in a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s not physically imposing, but there’s something clinical in his stillness.
The guards place me in a chair. The ropes are removed from my wrists and replaced by zip-ties, pulled tight. My vision’s still blurry, but I can see the amusement in his eyes.
“Well, well, well,” he says. “There she is.”
His voice is smooth. Polished. Confident.
“You’re going to be very,veryimportant in the next few days.”
I manage to lift my head. The effort costs me. “Why…”
Spalding smiles faintly. “Because Yuri Ivanov is many things, but reasonable is not one of them.” He walks around the desk just close enough to loom in my periphery.
“I tried the clean way,” he continues. “The quiet way. But he made his choice. And now we have to adjust.” He crouches slightly, looking me in the eye. “You’re not a hostage, Astrid. You’re leverage. And as long as you cooperate, you’ll be fine.”
He says it like a doctor offering bad news gently. Nothing personal. Just strategy.
I see it now—the cruel edges. The rot beneath the smile.
“You won’t get away with this,” I whisper.
He chuckles. “Getting away with things is what I do.” He straightens, smooths his shirt cuffs, and nods to the guards. “Get her settled somewhere comfortable.”
Then he’s gone.
The guards lift me again. I’m too tired to resist. My mind spins with scattered thoughts, but only one name anchors me.
Yuri.
If he’s looking for me—and I know he is—he won’t stop until he finds me.
He’ll burn the world down.
Along with anyone who stands in his way.
CHAPTER 33
YURI
Istep out of Ivanov Tower into the sharp sting of the late afternoon air, my thoughts already half a block ahead.
