The bag creaks on its chain, still swaying, and that’s when I hear it—
“Boss.”
Lev’s voice, flat. No lilt. No teasing.
I stop.
Turn.
Both of them are standing by the door. Lev, arms folded, brow low. Boris, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other holding a protein bar like it’s the only thing keeping him from diagnosing me out loud.
Neither of them says it, but they don’t have to.
I’ve been hitting that bag like it killed someone.
And maybe it did.
I don’t need softness. I don’t need weakness dressed up as care. And I don’t need feelings.
Especially not hers.
Lev peels off the wall first. Doesn’t say a word. Just ducks under the ropes, towel slung over his shoulder. He tosses it at me without warning. Lands against my chest, damp from his own sweat.
“You done trying to murder that bag?”
Then he holds out a bottle of cold water. Condensation slicks down his fingers. I take it, crack it open, and drain half without breaking eye contact.
Boris doesn’t move from the doorframe. Just watches. Silent judge, hoodie shadowing his eyes.
“Feel better?” he asks.
“I feel fine.”
“Sure you do.” He folds his arms, watching me like he’s got all the time in the world. “That’s why you’ve been beating the shit out of our equipment for twenty minutes.”
I wipe the towel across my chest, soaking up the sweat. My ribs ache where the scar tissue pulled tight. Old wound, old reminder.
“She got to you,” he says.
“She didn’t get to anything.”
“Right.” Lev ditches the smirk, and suddenly, he’s not joking anymore. “You know what I think?”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“I think we should keep her,” he says it anyway, the idiot.Pizda.
I stop wiping. Look at him. “What?”
“Keep her. Like a pet.”
The words hang in the air between us. Boris stops chewing his protein bar.
I repeat it back to him. “Like. A. Pet.” My mouth twists. “She’s not a stray mutt you throw scraps at; she’s dead weight now.We’ve got Viktor. We’ve got the paper trail. She’s not leverage anymore. Big difference.”
And it’s true. Even if she planted the USB, even if Caleb was dumb enough to run his mouth in that office, it wouldn’t matter. Viktor’s enough to burn the whole scheme down. Evidence, confession, corpse—he’s the full package.
Which means we don’t need her.
