When we reach the sitting room, Radimir is already there. So are Roman and Kirill. All three of them are standing in front of the TV. None of them turning to look at me when I come in.
The screen is filled with smoke, fire and bodies being carried out on stretchers.
I stop breathing.
The news anchor's voice is shaking so badly she can barely get the words out. "The death toll has now reached two hundred twenty, with over four hundred hospitalized. This is the worst attack on Russian soil since the Chechen conflicts. Authorities are calling this an act of domestic terrorism and are urging citizens to stay indoors and avoid all public transportation and government buildings."
The camera cuts to footage of a train station. Or what's left of it. The roof has collapsed and the walls are blown out and there are bodies everywhere. People were screaming, and blood stained the platform. The smoke was so thick you couldn't see through it.
I feel my knees give out. Roman catches me before I hit the floor and guides me to the couch and I sit down hard, my whole body shaking. "What is this?" I whisper, looking at the TV.
No one answers. The screen changes again. This time it shows a government building. Or what used to be a government building. The entire front half of it is gone, sheared away to reveal a chaotic wound of rubble, twisted metal, and fire pouring from the open structure."
"Fifteen government officials are confirmed dead," the anchor continues, her voice breaking. "Including Deputy Minister Oleg and three members of parliament. The bombings began three days ago and have escalated rapidly. The perpetrator has not been identified, but sources say this is the work of organized crime."
Three days ago.
The same day I woke up, my hands start shaking.
The flicker catches the anchor off guard. She freezes, mid-sentence, confusion on her face. The broadcast glitches twice, then cuts to black, leaving nothing but silence. For a moment, there's nothing.
And then a face I know all too well, appears on the screen. The air leaves my lungs in one sharp pull and my vision tunnels and somewhere in the back of my mind I register that I'm gripping the edge of the couch so hard my knuckles have gone white but I can't let go.
He looks different. Dark circles sit heavy under his eyes like he hasn't slept in days and a rough stubble covers his jaw and his eyes are flat and cold and empty of anything I recognize. There's no warmth nor softness. Just cold fury. He sits in front of the camera with his arms crossed in a haughty posture.
"Russia." His says calmly "For those of you who know Radimir Miroslav, tell him to return what belongs to me That woman you're holding captive? Is far more important than the entire Russian population. So, unless you want me to start a genocide, I suggest you listen carefully."
My hands started shaking. My throat closes up at the words. "I've spent the last three days being generous. I targeted his operations first. His warehouses. His safe houses. His men. Twohundred twenty of you are dead now. Four hundred more are injured. But that was just a warning."
He leans forward slightly and his eyes go even colder. "I have placed bombs in every major city across this country. Train stations. Airports. Subways. Government buildings. Shopping centers. Hospitals. Schools. All of them are rigged and all of them are on timers."
My hands start trembling so hard I have to clench them into fists to stop it. "You have twenty-four hours to return my wife to me. For every five hours that passes without her, I will detonate another bomb. And I will not be targeting mob infrastructure anymore. I will be targeting you."
The screen splits. On one side, his face. On the other, live footage of a tall glass structure in the center of Moscow is on display. People are walking in and out of it, and it seems as though there isn't a disturbance.
"And just so you know I'm not bluffing..." The building explodes.
The blast tears through the structure from the inside out and the glass shatters in every direction, flames erupt into the sky and the shockwave hits the camera so hard it shakes. People start running and screaming and the entire front of the building collapses inward and I can see bodies on the ground and smoke pouring out of the wreckage and my stomach turns over so violently I think I'm going to be sick.
The camera cuts back to Ilay. "That was a government office building, with twelve officials still inside, and from the blast it's safe to assume non survived."
He pauses. "You have twenty-four hours, Radimir. If I find out she's dead, every fucking body in Russia dies."
After his last statement, the screen goes black.
The news anchor comes back on. Her face is sheet-white and her hands are shaking so badly she can barely hold the papers in front of her. "We... we're getting reports that the explosion you just witnessed was real. The Federal Tax Service building on Tverskaya Street has been destroyed. Emergency services are on the scene. We... we don't have a confirmed death toll yet but..."
The phone on the table rings.
Radimir picks it up. His hand is shaking. "Yes?"
A males voice comes through the speaker, sounding angry.
"Radimir, this is President Morozov. Why the fuck did you anger him." Radimir's jaw tightens. He presses the speaker button and sets the phone down on the table.
"Mr. President."
"What the hell is going on?" The voice is clipped and furious. "I have the Minister of Defense in my office right now telling me that Ilay Ivanovich just hijacked every major news network in the country and threatened to commit mass genocide unless we return some woman to him. Is this true?"
