“But you wear their mark,” Keisha pressed.
“Enough.”Sergei grabbed the bottles.“Nadia, check the back.No tails.”
Nadia hesitated, then slipped out.Keisha turned on Sergei.“She’s one of them.”
“Was.”He shelved the supplies, precise.“Like me.”
“And I can trust her with Tiana?”Her voice rose, tremor worsening.
“Some marks don’t fade.”Sergei rolled up his sleeve, showing his own stars.“Doesn’t mean we’re theirs.”
“You should’ve told me.”Her voice dropped, dangerous.
“I’m telling you now.”He lowered his sleeve.“Nadia gets supplies, tracks society moves.She’s kept me alive.”
“What’s her price?”
“Protection.Atonement.”He glanced at the curtain.“She patched their enforcers, faked death records.Her brother paid for it.”
Keisha stepped back, disgust flickering.“Jesus.”
“We’ve all got scars.”He closed the gap, voice low.“She knows Mikalai’s patterns.That’s what we need.”
Nadia returned, face tight.“Two men at the bodega.One’s Dmitri.”
Sergei cursed.Dmitri—a Kryvaya Stal boss, above Mikalai.They weren’t just tracking.They were closing in.
“How long?”he asked.
“Minutes.”Nadia’s eyes hit Keisha.“They know she’s here.”
“How?”Keisha’s breathing quickened.
“I don’t know, but they do,” Nadia said.“Otherwise Dmitri wouldn’t be this close.
Sergei grabbed his jacket, checked his knife, pocketed a burner phone.“We go to the second safehouse.”
“Where?”Keisha grabbed her bag.
“Calle Ocho warehouse.”He faced Nadia.“Can you—”
“On it.”She pulled her phone.“I’ll say you went west.”
Keisha’s eyes narrowed.“Why should we trust you?”
“I’ve seen what they do to defectors,” Nadia said, meeting her gaze.“Sergei’s the only one who got out.”
Sergei grabbed Keisha’s arm.“We move.Now.”
“Not without answers,” she said, pulling back.“What designs did they find?”
“Evidence,” Sergei said, grip tightening.“Names, places, kids they’ve moved.”
Her eyes widened.“You’ve been tracking them.”
“Yes.”It cost him.“And they know.”
Nadia checked her watch.“Two minutes.Take the roof exit.”
