"The same thing I was supposed to accomplish before Yaros ambushed us." I hold his eyes in the mirror. "Luka Kolar stillbelieves Ana Veche's alive. If I can get to Kolar and make him understand what Yaros has done?—"
"The plan that failed? That got Lev ambushed?" Rurik chuckles a dark, rumbling sound that oozes with disbelief and contempt.
The men in this family are rude and ignorant. I know what I'm doing and I will do it, even if I have to sneak away from this man to do it. Lev told me they have proof that Ana Veche is dead and that Yaros killed her. I have to get that proof to Kolar.
"The plan that failed because Yaros got there first. But he thinks the threat has been neutralized now." I let that sink in. "He won't be expecting me to walk back into St. Petersburg."
Rurik is silent, hands tight on the wheel. I can see him thinking about what I'm saying. His face is scrunched in concentration as he glances at me a few times. He's a soldier who follows orders and trusts his commanders. Right now, his commander needs his help and he fucking knows it.
"Lev told me to keep you safe," he finally says.
"And the only way to truly keep me safe is to end this war." I straighten and let Ana Veche settle over me like armor. "I'm going back to St. Petersburg, Rurik. The question is whether you help me or try to stop me."
His eyes narrow. "You're ordering me?"
"I'm telling you what's happening." My voice drops into the commanding register I've practiced. "If I'm going to save the Gravitch trade route and help those women, I have to become Ana Veche, fully. And Ana Veche doesn't hide in Moscow while her allies fight and die."
"You're insane," he says, but something in his voice sounds like respect. "You know that?"
"Maybe. But I'm the only chance Lev has. The only chance any of them have." I grip his shoulder. "Yuri, Dimitri, Fyodor, everyone at that warehouse—they're counting on the plan working. I'm the only one who can make it happen now."
Rurik wrestles with his loyalty and the impossible situation I've put him in. He owes allegiance to Lev and Yuri, and right now, the Gravitch family needs someone willing to walk into fire to piss on the flame Yaros lit and save them.
"Lev's going to kill me," he mutters.
"Lev is going to thank you." I squeeze his shoulder. "He knows me well enough by now to know I was never going to stay hidden while he fought alone."
When I sit back, I know the decision is already made, but Rurik hums and haws for twenty more minutes as we get stuck in traffic. His forehead remains continually knit in dark concentration, but when he looks over his shoulder at me, I see the gaze of a man who sees an equal, not a woman he's assigned to protect.
"Seven hours to St. Petersburg," he says.
"Then we should get moving."
He takes the next exit and merges onto the highway heading north. Moscow's lights fade behind us as the road opens ahead. I settle back and watch the darkness rush past. I'm done running from problems.
Three months ago, you'd have asked Vivika Rozhkova if she could see herself being a hero and I'd have told anyone I am justa woman. The only special power I have is that I can translate a sentence into twelve different languages.
Now, however, after Lev trained me to be ruthless and cunning, I know my superpower is confidence. If I can convince myself something is possible, then anything is possible, and all I have to do is act like it.
At least I hope so.
And I hope Rurik has enough brains to know how to find Luka Kolar once we're in St. Petersburg without tipping Yaros off. Everything hinges on that. Without that, I'm toast.
25
LEV
The boot connects with my temple and the world goes sideways as colors bleed into shadows and sound fades to static. Hands drag me across the floor of the station, but Vivika's train is gone and they can't stop it. They know where it's going but even if they chase it down, she'll get to Moscow hours before they do and by then, Rurik will have her safely tucked away somewhere.
My body goes limp and I let them think I'm unconscious as they haul me toward an exit. Two men, maybe three—I can't tell with this ringing in my skull. They're arguing about where to take me and what Yaros wants done with my body.
Outside, the air is warm and moist as spring continues to take root over Russia. I keep up my act long enough to risk being shoved into their car, but I want to take stock of my surroundings. It isn't often that I have to take on three men at once.
When one of them drops me on the concrete, I hear another utter a harsh command in a Serbian dialect that confuses me.He's telling the driver to shove me in the trunk—they think I'm dead, maybe. And I can't let them haul me off.
I crack my eyes to peek out at the parking lot and see three sets of feet as one man walks toward the trunk and pops the latch. My car shouldn’t be too far from here, but from my position on the ground, it's hard to get my bearings. When I make my move, it has to be hard and fast, and without a weapon, I'll have to disarm one of them to protect myself, but it's this or death.
When the man stoops to grab me, grunting an order for help, I move fast.
