“No,” he says. “We’ll be on the road with my best team.”
I nod once. “Good.”
He threads his fingers through mine, gripping tightly. “When we reach the lake, we don’t rush the house. We take the cellar entrance. No lights. No sound. That’s the only point Ilya won’t trap, because he uses it himself. He thinks no one remembers it.”
“He’s wrong,” I whisper.
“He’s wrong,” Sergei repeats. “We enter quietly, set positions, and wait. He always steps into the main room first. He checks the table. He checks the bed. He checks the drives. He checks the bomb. He does it in that order. That habit will kill him.”
I breathe out. “And we take him?”
Sergei nods. I squeeze his hand. “And Nadia?”
“She stays with my aunt,” Sergei says. “Safe. Away from all of this.”
The thought steadies me. “Good.”
He leans closer. “We end him, Raina. We finish this. No running. No hiding. No fear.”
I touch his jaw. “You’re sure about the timing?”
“Yes,” he says. “He’s going to return fast after moving a prisoner, since he’ll need to wipe the space before the trail cools. In his head, coming back quickly covers his tracks. We know it does the opposite.”
I swallow. “So he’ll be there.”
Sergei’s hand tightens on my waist. “He’ll be there. And I’ll be there waiting.”
“Then the plan is airtight,” I whisper.
“It is,” he says. “And after that, our life returns. No more running. No more screens. No more songs used as warnings.”
His voice softens. “Just us.”
I lean forward and kiss him, slow and sure. He answers it with a kiss that feels like a vow.
When we pull apart, he brushes my cheek. “You’re shaking again.”
“Not fear,” I say, and he smiles.
He rolls me under him, his body warm, his mouth trailing down my neck. The tension between us sparks again, sharp and alive.
“We have a few hours before we leave,” he murmurs against my skin.
I grip his shoulders. “Then use them.”
He does.
26
SERGEI
Morning comes fast.
Raina’s still asleep when I wake. Her hair lies on my chest. My body aches from the night, but my mind is already working. The plan sits clear in my head. There’s no room for mistakes.
I slide out of bed without waking her, wash my face, pull on clothes. When I come back, she’s propped up on one elbow, watching me.
“It’s time?” she asks.
