I step fully into the shop and my stomach drops. Two men I’ve never seen before stand in the center of the room. They don’tlook like the bratva nor Balshov men. These ones are street-level with drugged gazes and rough edges.
One is tall with a snake tattoo curling up his neck. The other is shorter but bulkier, arms crossed like he thinks the position makes him look smarter.
They both turn when they hear me.
“Well, look who it is,” the taller one says with a smirk. “The little flower girl.”
The shorter one snorts. “Didn’t think she’d be this young.”
I force my voice steady. “We’re closed. You need to leave.”
Snake-Neck laughs. “Nah. We’re here for business.”
My pulse spikes.
Business.
They don’t know me, but they know this place.
They know the Popov name once hung over it like a shadow.
“This isn’t Popov territory anymore. With your dear daddy gone, we’re claiming it now,” the shorter one says, stepping closer. “Which means you owe—”
“I owe nothing,” I say sharply.
He stops a foot away from me, his sour breath hitting my face. “That so?”
Vanda presses against my leg hard enough to hurt, trembling violently. I scoop her up immediately, holding her against my chest. She buries her face into my neck, whimpering.
Snake-Neck clicks his tongue. “Cute dog.”
“Leave,” I warn, keeping my voice even despite the fear clawing at my ribs. “Now. You have no business here.”
“The Popovs are done,” he snaps. “And Balshov can’t hold onto every damn corner of this city.”
The moment he says the name, a chill skates down my spine. They know the territory lines. But they think the shop is unprotected now that Boris is dead. They think they can take advantage.
“It’s time for you to pay,” the shorter man says, grinning. “A fee. Weekly. Starting now.”
“No. Take it up with the Balshovs.”
He blinks, surprised I didn’t even hesitate.
Snake-Neck’s smile drops. “Wrong answer.”
The shorter one grabs a vase from a display and hurls it to the floor. It shatters into bright porcelain shards. The crash echoes through the shop.
I flinch but hold Vanda tighter. “Stop! Don’t you dare touch anything else!”
“What are you gonna do about it, sweetheart?” he says mockingly. “You gonna stop us? All you have to do is pay.”
“No,” I whisper again, but inside I’m at war. I know paying them would only make things worse, but how else am I going to get them out of here?
I think of Viktor. Of how he always stands just behind me when we walk through the shop at night. Of how he listens for every sound. Of how safe I feel when he is near. Of how sure I am that he could fix this.
I wish he was here. Especially now.
Snake-Neck steps forward, sweeping his arm across an entire shelf.
