“With too much jam,” my aunt says.
I step in and lean close to my aunt’s ear. “Same rules,” I say quietly. “Door locked. Only you, her, and my guards. If anything feels off, you call. First ring.”
“I remember,” she says. Her eyes flick to Raina. “You brought her home. Good. Now bring her peace.”
“That’s the plan,” I say.
We don’t linger. If I stay longer, I’ll start thinking, and I can’t afford that. I kiss Nadia’s hair, kiss Raina once in front of her so she sees us together and solid, then we leave.
On the stairs down, Raina walks beside me.
“She knows more than she says,” Raina mutters.
“She always did,” I answer.
We reach the cars. The air bites. I look at Kirill. “We go,” I say.
He nods. “All teams ready. Cottage perimeter drones are in place from before. Nothing moved during the night.”
Good. That means Ilya didn’t break pattern. He’ll come today.
We head north.
The drive to Klin feels shorter this time. I know the route in my bones now. Past the sign, past the thin patches of snow, past the same tired fuel stations. The roads get narrower, the traffic lighter.
Raina rides in the back seat, behind me. She has a small bag at her feet, pistol inside, spare magazine, gloves, a compactheadset. Her eyes are sharp, awake, no trace of last night’s softness.
“You’re sure he’ll come?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s too in love with his own systems. That cottage is a core node for him. His hardware logs show it. He reused it more than any other site. Men like him keep one den that feels like a throne, even if they tell themselves it’s just another safehouse.”
“He came back after moving me,” she says quietly.
“At least once,” I say. “He’ll come again to clean his prints. He knows I’ve seen it now. He’ll want to erase every trace. He won’t trust anyone else to do it.”
Kirill glances at me. “We’ve got traffic cameras on the main road,” he says. “If he comes by the usual route, we’ll see his plates.”
“He knows we can pull plates,” I say. “He’ll change cars. But he can’t change the bridge we need to cross or the road we need to take.”
We hit the first bridge. The water under it looks muddy and still. The second bridge has cracks in the concrete. The third still has the broken rail from years ago. My hand tightens on my knee as we roll over it.
Raina leans forward. “Third bridge,” she says under her breath.
“Yeah,” I say. “Third bridge.”
We turn right onto the forest road. Trees close around us. Kirill kills the headlights for the last stretch. The second car behind us does the same. Engines hum low.
We park in the same spot as the last time, hidden behind trees and a rise in the ground. Men get out, silent and fast. Weapons are checked. Comms tested.
I pull Raina close for a second. “You stay on overwatch,” I say. “South side tree line. You’ll be my eyes on the lake road. If he comes from any other direction, you call it.”
“And if he doesn’t come?” she asks.
“He’ll come,” I say. “But if somehow he doesn’t by our time limit, we strip that cottage to the bones and burn it ourselves.”
She nods.
Kirill hands her a small scoped rifle. She checks it, chamber, safety, scope, magazine. No hesitation. She slings it across her back.
