"Were you to blame?"
"Partially." No point lying about it. "I made a call. The right call tactically, wrong call for the people who didn't make it out."
"And he's been hunting you since then?"
"On and off. Thought the vendetta had cooled." My phone buzzes—Fitz. "Apparently not."
I can still see Lazarev's face that day in Sana'a. The way his jaw locked when I gave the order to move out, leaving his team pinned down. That cold fury in his eyes when we extracted what was left of them. He'd promised then he'd return the favor someday. Make me watch something burn that I couldn't save.
I answer, keep my voice low. "Yeah."
"Saw the news." Fitz's voice is clipped, all business. "You two clear?"
"For now. Safe house is burned. Literally."
"Lazarev?"
"Signature matches. He's here, and he's not playing around."
Silence on the other end. Then: "He's been off grid for months. No movement, no chatter. This is the first confirmation we've had that he's even alive."
"Well, he's alive and he's pissed." I glance at Isabella; make sure she's still with me. She is, her eyes scanning the crowd like I taught her without realizing it. "What's the play?"
"You tell me. You're the one on the ground."
I think it through. Cerberus has resources, contacts, safe houses across Europe. But if Lazarev's tracking our operations, those resources become liabilities.
"I'm going dark," I say. "Limited contact, no safe house network. I'll check in every couple days unless something breaks."
"That's a risk."
"Less risk than staying connected if he's got surveillance on us." I turn down a side street, heading toward the train station. "Isabella's the target for one group, I'm a target for Lazarev.Until we figure out how they're coordinating, we move light and we move fast."
"What do you need?"
"Clean phone, cash, transport documents. Can you drop a package?"
"Where?"
I scan the area, think about safe drop points. "Praha hlavní nádraží. Main train station. Locker 247. Couple hours."
"Done. What else?"
"Run analysis on the accelerant from tonight's fire. See if it matches Lazarev's previous work. And pull everything you've got on his movements for the last year. If he's been tracking me, there's a pattern."
"On it." Fitz pauses. "Watch yourself, Remy. Lazarev's good, but he's also unstable. That combination makes him dangerous in ways you can't predict."
"I know."
"Do you? Because last time you two tangled, half a city block ended up as collateral damage."
"That was different."
"Was it?"
I end the call before he can push further. Fitz means well, and he knows the field better than most—former SAS, decades of operations under his belt. But he's thinking like a commander now, playing the long game. I'm playing survival, and the calculations are different when you're the one on the ground with a target on your back.
Isabella is watching me when I pocket the phone. "Everything okay?"
