At least I'll have chosen to let this happen. That's more of a say than most people get, more than I deserve.
I turn from the window and move through my penthouse in the growing light. Everything here is expensive. Empty. Devoid of personal touch. This has never been a home, just another performative space. Another part of the image one expects from the second in command of the Bratva.
Maybe I've been waiting for Sofiya my entire life. Someone who could give my existence meaning by ending it. Someone who deserves to deliver death. Someone worth dying for.
In a few hours, I'll shower, dress in my usual suit, and go back to being the Pakhan's weapon. I'll continue serving while secretly helping her. I'll kiss Sofiya without pushing for morebecause she needs control over something. Because having more of her will be the death of me—literally, probably. I'll follow her. Watch over her from the shadows. Make sure no one else sees what I see.
And I'll wait.
Wait for the day she's ready. The day she takes her shot. The day she comes for me.
I thought I was waiting for a reason to live for fifteen years. Now I know I was waiting for a reason to die. And somehow, despite everything, that feels like the most honest thing I've ever done.
CHAPTER 7
Sofiya
SONG: ROMANCE BY VARIALS
Friday nightsat Lush pulse with a specific energy—money burning holes in pockets, deals celebrated or losses drowned, people desperate to forget their real lives for a few hours. My favorite kind. The ones who come to forget always talk the most.
I'm bent over my makeup station, blending contour into the hollows of my cheeks, when the dressing room goes silent.
Aleksandr stands in the doorway.
Men don't come back here. Ever. This space is sacred, the only place we exist outside the performance where we're allowed to be something other than what the club demands. His presence violates an unspoken law, which means whatever he wants is significant.
"Sofiya." His voice cuts through the careful quiet like a blade. "Got a moment?"
Every eye in the room tracks me as I follow him into the hallway. Angel's gaze especially, hot on my back, knowing.
All I can think is progress. Finally. The excitement bubbles up despite my attempts to suppress it. Ten years of training, planning, positioning myself and it's working.
We walk to his private office, and Aleksandr gestures to a chair. I shake my head, wanting to remain standing. Standing keeps me ready to move, gives me the advantage of mobility. He raises an eyebrow and gestures again, more insistently. I perch on the edge of the seat. Tense. Ready.
"I have something for you." He pulls out a USB drive, a tiny thing, barely the size of my fingernail, and sets it on the desk between us.
I wait. Don't ask questions even though my nerves scream at me to fill the silence. Nervous people talk too much, and I can't afford mistakes now especially.
"There's a man named Dimitri," Aleksandr continues. "Someone the Pakhan wants to keep on a tight leash. That"—he nods toward the drive—"will help us do it. Video footage that will be very problematic for him if it became public."
The drive feels weightless in my palm. So small. So insignificant-looking for something apparently worth so much.
"Your job is to deliver it to him while he is meeting with the Pakhan. Make contact, hand it over, explain the terms. As long as Dimitri cooperates with certain business interests, the footage stays private. If he doesn't..." Aleksandr shrugs. "The consequences should be obvious."
"Where do I find him?"
"He'll be at the Pakhan's house in about an hour. Simple transaction. Don't worry about your shift tonight, I'll make sure you don't lose any tips."
The Pakhan's house. My house. The house I watchedMomochkadie in. The house that shouldn't exist in my present, only my past. The house I'm not supposed to be alive to walk back into. My breath catches. I force it steady.
Nothing about this is simple, but I nod anyway. "Why me?" Hoping I'm projecting shy confusion instead of the wild calculation spinning through my mind.
"Because you've proven yourself trustworthy," Aleksandr says. "You saved my life. That buys you my trust. And because Dimitri won't see you as a threat, you'll walk right past his security without raising defenses."
"I’ll..." My voice trails off. I clear my throat and try again. "I’ll be meeting the Pakhan?" How I sound steady, I'll never know.
"Briefly, he’s busy. He mainly just wants someone Dimitri doesn’t know to bring the drive. Gotta keep people on their toes." Aleksandr reaches into his jacket and pulls out a thick stack of cash. "For cab fare and delivery. If things go smoothly, there might be a bonus. Who knows, this could become a regular gig for you. Imagine being able to keep your clothes on?"
