"Then we'll do it for her. And for everyone like me."
Wednesday night, I dance the Giselle mad scene for him. The moment when Giselle realizes betrayal and dances herself to death. I channel everything into it—the fall five years ago, Anton's obsession, the poisoning, the training, the love I found in the ruins.
When I finish, Maksim is staring at me with something like awe.
"That was—" He stops, crossing the studio to me. "You're extraordinary."
We make love against the mirrors, my body at full strength now, his wonder at my transformation evident in every touch. I'm powerful again. Capable. Ready.
Thursday, after the combat training, Maksim pulls me aside. "You understand what Lincoln Center means? The risk?"
"I understand that hiding didn't work. That running didn't work. That the only way to end Anton is to face him." I meet his eyes. "And I'm ready."
Friday-Saturday, October 22-23
Final preparations.
Friday morning, I dance at full principal level—multiple fouettés, sustained adagios, explosive jumps. My ankle holds perfectly. I'm stronger than before the injury in some ways. Driven by purpose instead of just passion.
Combat: full-contact sparring with Maksim. No holding back. I hold my own for five minutes before he finally pins me.
"That's good enough," he says, breathing hard. "Most men won't last thirty seconds against you now."
Firearms: proficiency test. Moving targets, multiple targets, shooting from cover. I'm not on an expert level, but I'm competent. Reliable under pressure.
Maksim watches my final qualification run, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"What?" I ask after, setting the gun down carefully.
"You." He shakes his head. "Two weeks ago, you collapsed from poisoning. Now you're—" He gestures at the targets, all center mass hits. "You're a terrifying. In the best possible way."
Saturday evening, we video conference with Alexei and Mila in Chicago. Full Lincoln Center operational review. Alexei's men positioned themselves throughout the venue. Federal contacts with tactical teams on standby. Coordinated operation involving three different organizations.
"She's ready," Maksim tells Alexei, and the pride in his voice makes my chest tight.
"Then let's end this bastard," Alexei says. "Halloween night. We finish what he started fifteen years ago."
After the call, reality settles. Eight days until Halloween. Eight days until Lincoln Center. Eight days until I face Anton in whatever elaborate trap he's built.
"Are you scared?" Maksim asks that night in bed.
"Terrified. But also—" I search for the word. "Ready. For the first time in five years, I'm not just surviving. I'm fighting back."
He traces my name on my collarbone. S-O-N-Y-A. "Whatever happens at Lincoln Center, we're together. That's not negotiable."
"Good. Because I'm not losing you either."
Sunday, October 24
Departure day.
Morning: I dance one final time in the studio that's become our sanctuary. Running through Giselle completely—every step perfect, every movement powerful. This is my weapon, my art, my power.
When I finish, Maksim is watching from his usual spot by the window.
"Beautiful," he says simply.
"Thank you. For this space. For these two weeks. For—" I gesture around the studio. "Everything."
