Polina nods again, already moving.
Mikel leans closer. “One of Ivan’s men has been detained earlier.”
My attention locks. “Alive?”
“Alive.” Mikel’s expression remains tight. “The man isn’t speaking. I’m requesting permission for pressure.”
I glance at the monitor again. “Permission granted.”
Mikel nods and steps out of the room to relay the order. The door closes softly behind him.
I study the map and narrow my focus. Emotion doesn’t solve problems. Planning does.
Arkady’s goal isn’t simply to keep Rowan. It’s to show he can take what’s mine. He’s testing whether my men will follow him if he pushes hard enough. That’s why he used an internal man like Maksim. It wasn’t just convenience. It was a signal. A quiet poll. And now that poll is answered.
Polina clears her throat lightly, drawing my attention back. “There’s another issue.”
I hold her gaze. “Continue.”
“One of Arkady’s captains stopped at a clinic on the east side.” Her voice stays neutral, but her eyes sharpen. “A private medical office.”
The words hit me in the ribs. A clinic isn’t for business meetings.
“Time stamp,” I instruct.
Polina slides the tablet toward me. The footage is grainy. A vehicle pulls into a lot behind a small building. A man steps out. Arkady’s captain. He enters through a back door.
My body goes still in a way that has nothing to do with calm. A clinic means one of two things. Someone is hurt, or someone is being kept capable of enduring more. Either way, it isn’t random.
“Any evidence she’s there?”
Polina shakes her head. “No visual confirmation. The captain stayed eight minutes. Then left.”
My mind runs through the last known details. Rowan and Lila were taken together. If there’s an injury or illness, a clinic becomes relevant.
“Put eyes on that clinic. Quietly.”
Polina nods once.
I pace a single step, then stop. “Arkady’s captains avoiding main routes. Off-grid properties. A clinic stop.” I look at the map again. “He’s moving supplies to wherever they’re holding her.”
Polina’s fingers move again. “There are two rural properties that match the pattern. One outside Mint Hill. One near a private lake access road.”
The lake access road triggers a memory of Arkady’s holdings. He likes distance from neighbors and long drives that swallow gunfire.
My pulse ticks in my neck. “Get the teams together.”
Polina glances at the clock on the wall. “The snow will worsen after midnight.”
“Snow doesn’t stop bullets,” I respond.
Her lips press together, then she gives a nod.
I point to the map. “Split the teams. One to Mint Hill. One to the lake property. Don’t engage unless you see her. Confirm first. Twice. If there’s any doubt, pull back and wait.”
Polina starts assigning the teams. My men move quietly. Headsets go on. Weapons are checked. Maps are printed. The room transforms from planning to execution.
I watch it all with detached focus. This is what leadership looks like. Not bravado. Logistics.
