"We don't have time for proper positioning," Mariana says tersely. "Anton goes on in ten minutes. If we evacuate now, he might detonate early. We go in, you get to the wings, we pray."
We enter through the main entrance at 8:08 PM.
The theater is packed—every seat filled, standing room occupied. Two thousand people in holiday dress, watching beautiful performances, celebrating.
None of them know.
We make our way to the wings—stage left. I position where I can see everything: stage, audience, exits.
Mariana's voice in my earpiece: "Teams still arriving. We have maybe twelve operators in the building, another twenty en route. This is not secure. Repeat, this is not secure."
At 8:12 PM, the current performance concludes. Enthusiastic applause.
Anton Kozlov takes the stage.
The audience applauds immediately—the program lists him as a renowned guest artist, a holiday surprise. They're delighted.
If only they know…
Anton performs a solo first—technically flawless, emotionally powerful. The audience is mesmerized.
After three minutes, he stops center stage. Addresses the audience directly.
"Thank you. And now, I have a special surprise. A collaboration I've planned for some time. Ladies and gentlemen, from our audience tonight, please welcome principal dancer Sonya Morozova!"
The audience applauds, thinking this is planned, interactive, part of the gala magic.
Sonya takes a breath beside me. "Here we go."
She walks onto the stage at 8:20 PM.
The burgundy costume flows perfectly. The audience applauds her entrance. They think this is rehearsed, professional, beautiful.
Anton extends his hand center stage. "Shall we?"
She takes it.
Dark music begins—not typical holiday fare. Something Anton selected.
They begin to dance.
Two thousand people watch, thinking it's art.
I watch from the wings, weapon ready, every muscle tensed. Mariana's teams are still arriving, still positioning, nowhere near properly deployed.
Anton and Sonya perform a dark, beautiful duet. But I see what the audience can't.
The audience watches, captivated by the unexpected collaboration.
Anton pulls Sonya close for a lift. His hand presses her stomach—right where the bump hides under burgundy silk. A threat.
The duet continues. Dark, dramatic, technically perfect.
Until the music builds to crescendo. Final lift—Sonya in arabesque, Anton supporting, perfectly balanced.
The music stops.
The audience erupts. Standing ovation. They loved it. They think they witnessed something special.
