Petya’s voice comes through immediately, low and focused.
“We’re monitoring some movement,” he says at once. “We think it’s our guy.”
Every muscle in my body tightens at once. The shift is instant and complete.
“Where?”
“We got a hit from train station surveillance that picked up Belov and his father yesterday afternoon,” he says. “They boarded a train heading west. Our facial recognition has confirmed it.”
I lean against the kitchen chair, letting the information settle. Kostya is running away. It’s the obvious move. The safe move. It’s a move a guilty man makes when he knows retaliation is coming.
It also feels too convenient. He hasn’t surfaced in a month, and now he’s being picked up on security footage getting on a train? It doesn’t make sense. It feeds into the theory of a mole. He must know that we’re closing in on him. More likely, though, this is a ruse to lure us into a false sense of safety.
“He’s clearly running scared,” Petya continues. “If he thinks you’re coming for him, leaving the city makes sense.”
“Or,” I say quietly, “he simply wants us to think that.”
Silence hums on the line for a beat.
“You think he’s baiting us.”
“I do,” I confirm. “Kostya is reckless, but he isn’t stupid. If he truly wants to disappear, he’d never let us get this footage.”
It all feels staged and deliberate, designed to pull attention in one direction while something else moves unseen. Which means the real threat may still be in the city, waiting for me to let down my guard.
“What do you want to do?” Petya asks. “We can keep you rotating in safehouses until we’re sure we caught the guy, or we can bring you out and see if that gets him to move.”
I push away from the table and begin pacing the length of the room, energy coiling tight beneath my ribs. Standing still feels impossible now. My mind is already moving three steps ahead, mapping outcomes, calculating risk.
“We stop reacting,” I say. “We choose solid ground.”
“You want to draw him out.”
“Yes.”
I know this is the right call. I can’t keep running forever. My enemies may start to think I’m cowardly and scared. That couldn’t be further from the truth. We’ve tried playing it safe for a month without any solid result. It’s time to go on the offensive.
“What do you want to do about the girl?” he asks.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. This is where the plan gets a little trickier. If I’m going to draw him out, I have to risk my own safety. I may also have to risk hers. I hate the thought of it, but it may be my only move.
“She stays protected,” I say firmly. “That’s the most important thing. We want to draw him out, but she can’t get hurt in any way.”
“Should we keep her at a separate location?”
“Only temporarily,” I say, formulating a plan. “He needs to think she’s away from my protection. That’s the only way he’ll come back to the city.”
The answer is automatic and strategic, but I hate how easy it is for me to agree to putting her away from me. This isn’t what I want. It feels wrong in a way I don’t have time to analyze.
Petya accepts it without comment.
“We’ll double the security around her place and make sure that someone can get to her in ten seconds or less. How many men do you want on her detail?”
“As many as we can spare,” I say. “More than are on me, if necessary. Her safety is our top priority.”
“What do you want us to with Belov if we find him?” he presses.
I stop pacing.
