Then… Static.
Pizdets.
Irina says something—low, cruel—but the mic cuts again.
Arseny fiddles with the receiver. “Getting fragments only.”
“Children… family… ruin you both,” Irina’s voice snaps through.
Bella steps forward, fists tight at her sides, fire flashing across her face. Whatever Irina just said, it hit deep.
“You won’t touch them!” Bella’s voice rips out through the static.
For a second—a stupid, reckless second—it almost looks like Bella thinks she can stare Irina down. Like sheer stubborn will might protect her.
Until Bella’s body jerks.
Subtle. Like she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She starts backing away. One step. Two.
“Something’s wrong,” I say, already moving.
“Orders?” Timur asks, sharp.
Before I can answer, Irina shifts—too smooth, too fast—and four men peel out from behind the derelict sedans and crumbling support columns.
Bella spins.
One grabs her wrist.
Crack.
She’s faster than I thought.
The gun comes out. She shoots—messy, panicked—but the shotlands.One of the men stumbles back, howling, clutching his thigh.
“Move!” I bark.
Timur and Viktor’s team are already vaulting down the stairs. Arseny swings toward the west exit to cut off escape.
Another man slams Bella against the hood of a car. Her body twists, fighting. She’s yelling something—I can’t hear it. Don’t need to.
They’re trying to pull her toward a waiting car.
Not just any car.
A black Dodge Charger, plates stripped.
Irina’s already slipping into another vehicle—a silver Lexus SUV—rolling out the east ramp like she’s just finished brunch and has a Pilates class to get to.
My blood ices over.
Too fast. Too rehearsed.
Too late.
I break into a run, the gunmetal stairwell blurring past me.
And for the first time in a long goddamn time—
