The silence returns, broken only by the distant vibration of a train moving somewhere nearby. Lila remains beside me in the dark. Her breathing is uneven now, drawn in deeper pulls she doesn’t try to disguise.
Minutes pass. Then the lock turns again. This time, the footsteps are heavier. The personnel door opens, and cold air rolls inside. At the same time, the industrial light above us crackles once and flares back to life, flooding the warehouse in thin yellow light.
Arkady Voronin steps into the warehouse. He removes his gloves slowly, one finger at a time, and hands them to one of the men behind him before stepping farther inside. His coat is dark and tailored, the collar turned up against the winter air.
Ivan stands near the pallets, waiting.
“You didn’t get anything else?” Arkady asks.
“No,” Ivan replies. “She kept it vague.”
Arkady’s eyes focus on me, then move to Lila, then back to me.
“You’re certain?” he pushes.
“She knows less than we thought,” Ivan answers.
Arkady walks closer, his boots echoing across the concrete.
“And now?” Arkady asks.
Ivan hesitates for a fraction of a second.
“She’s pregnant.”
Arkady stops short. His eyes slowly move to my abdomen. A faint smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
“Well,” he murmurs. “That’s a gift.”
Ivan studies him. “It raises the stakes.”
Arkady shakes his head once. “No. It secures them. We keep her.”
Lila stiffens beside me.
“She’s not staying,” she counters.
Arkady ignores her. “A child ties loyalties,” he continues. “It forces decisions.”
“She’s not a bargaining chip,” Lila snaps.
Arkady looks at her briefly.
“Everything is,” he replies.
He turns back to Ivan.
“We keep her.”
The words sit there, cold and final. Ivan doesn’t argue.
The door closes behind them with a solid metal click, the lock turning once more and leaving us alone in the cold. I rest my hand low against my abdomen and listen to their footsteps fade.
2
KIREN
The first thing I notice is the glass. It’s still on the roadway, glittering in the sweep of red and blue lights as patrol cars block off the intersection, their beams bouncing off the wet asphalt and the thin dusting of snow that’s begun to stick along the curb. The SUV sits skewed across the lane, its windshield webbed and opaque where bullets struck but didn’t fully breach.
