"Pregnant and nauseous. You?"
"Better every day." She settles across from me. "Sergei suggested I might stay longer. If that's okay with you."
"Of course. Stay as long as you want. Actually—" I pause, the idea forming. "I wanted to ask you something. The foundation needs instructors. I can't teach full-time right now with the pregnancy, and we already have students enrolled in both Philadelphia and New York. Would you consider teaching?"
Her eyes widen. "Seriously?"
"You're an excellent dancer. Patient, skilled, and you already have teaching experience from your Brooklyn studio. Plus—" I meet her gaze, "—you understand what it's like to survive trauma and find your way back to dance. That perspective matters."
"I'd love to." Relief and purpose flood her expression. "When do I start?"
"This week. We can coordinate schedules, split the students. I'll take Philadelphia in person, handle New York via video calls for now. You can cover whichever you prefer."
We spend breakfast planning—class structures, student needs, scheduling. It feels good to focus on building instead of just surviving.
Later that morning, Maksim finds me in his study reviewing foundation documents.
"Mariana scheduled that special task force meeting for today," he reminds me. "Federal building in Manhattan, 10:00 AM. She arranged it Friday so we'd have time to coordinate. The helicopter leaves in thirty minutes."
My stomach tightens. "Any news on Anton?"
"That's what we're finding out."
We take the helicopter at 9:00 AM sharp—forty-five-minute flight from Philadelphia to Manhattan. We arrive at the federal building at 9:45 AM
The task force occupies a secure conference room on the eighth floor—FBI agents, NYPD detectives, representatives from Homeland Security. Everyone is hunting Anton Kozlov.
Mariana greets us at the door. "Congratulations on the wedding," she says quietly. "Heard it was beautiful."
"Thank you. Any updates?"
Her expression answers before her words do. "Nothing. Complete silence since Halloween night. No sightings, no communication, no activity on any known aliases or accounts."
We enter the conference room. Twenty people around a large table, screens displaying maps and timelines and surveillance footage.
The meeting starts at 10:00 AM sharp.
"Two weeks," says Agent Castillo, leading the briefing. "Anton Kozlov disappeared from Penn Station area November 1st at approximately 3:00 AM. Wounded from gunshot to shoulder. No hospital admissions matching his description. No body found. No confirmed sightings since."
She pulls up a map of New York City with markers. "Last confirmed location here. Surveillance cameras tracked him to the subway maintenance tunnels, then lost him. We've searched every inch of those tunnels. Nothing."
"He had an escape plan," Maksim says from beside me. "Months of living in Lincoln Center's underground. He knew those systems. Probably had supplies cached, alternate identities prepared."
"Agreed," Mariana responds. "We've expanded the search nationwide. DMV records, airport surveillance, bus stations, train terminals. If he's traveling, he's doing it off-grid."
"What about his obsession?" I ask. Everyone turns to look at me. "Anton is obsessive. Compulsive. He spent five years focused on me specifically. Does that kind of obsession just stop because he's wounded and running?"
"No," says Dr. Patel, the FBI's behavioral analyst. "Obsessive personalities don't abandon their targets. They adapt, plan, wait for opportunity. The silence is tactical, not surrender."
"So he's planning something," I conclude.
"Almost certainly."
The meeting continues for two hours—reviewing evidence, discussing theories, coordinating resources. By noon, we're no closer to finding him than we were two weeks ago.
After the meeting, Mariana pulls me aside.
"I want to schedule regular strategy sessions with you," she says. "Your psychology background, your understanding of Anton's patterns—you're an asset we're not utilizing enough."
