My hands curl into fists at my sides at the thought. The worst-case scenario claws at the edge of my brain like a rabid dog, refusing to let go. It’s a morbid expectation—one I can’t afford to dwell on—but it’s there, gnawing at me
I shove the image away and focus.
With Ivy’s escape, Mikhail only has one card left to play. My son.
The boy is his last leverage in this war, his final chip on the table, and Mikhail knows it. He’s arrogant, yes, and also reckless, but he’s far from stupid. Not when the stakes are this high. Failing once and letting Ivy slip away had been agrave error, one I can only assume he’s punishing his men for as we speak.
Because if there’s one thing I know about the Sidorovs, it’s that they don’t tolerate failure. Especially not when it costs them power.
So he’ll guard Leo like a trophy now. Not out of sentiment, but strategy. Every hour we wait is another hour that my son suffers.
I know he’s strong. He’s Ivy’s child, after all. He’s clever, observant, brave, born of fire just like her. But he’s also just a boy and every second that ticks by is another second he’s left scared and confused about what’s happening to him.
“I want drones in the air by this afternoon,” I say tightly. “I want double patrols running every possible route leading out of the city. If he tries to move Leo, we’re going to intercept it.”
Matvey nods. “Already working on it.”
“They won’t risk relocating him unless they feel cornered. Which means we’re walking on a thin line here. Push them too hard, and they’ll disappear again,” Katya says.
“I know,” I murmur, dragging a hand down my face. “But we can’t wait forever.”
“We won’t,” Roman agrees from across the room, finally looking up from the map he’s been studying. “But we can make Mikhail feel the heat. Make him desperate. Desperation breeds mistakes.”
I pause at that. “He’s already made one.”
Katya nods. “Exactly. He’ll make more as long as we keep up what we’re doing. We already found his little girlfriend. Use that as leverage against him. He gets her back if you get your kid. Simple.”
I glance toward the hallway that leads back to Ivy’s room.
A trade doesn’t sound like a bad idea, however I doubt Ivy will be comfortable with our playing games with our child’s life on the line. One wrong move and Mikhail will cut his losses.
“We’ll hold off on that for the time being. For now, focus on the van and see where it leads,” I say.
8
IVY
When I wake up again, there’s no soft stroking of my hair. No warm weight curled against my back. The scent of clean cotton and clove that usually clings to Maksim is absent, replaced by the muted, sterile scent of dust and faint lemon cleaner.
Maksim isn’t here.
Instead, I seeher.
At first, my breath catches, confusion spiking into alarm, because it takes a moment for my brain to place the shadowed figure by the window.
Katya.
She’s the last face I expect. I barely know her beyond the name and the reputation it drags behind it like a bloodstained veil. Even back five years ago when Maksim had first brought me around his inner circle briefly, before everything fell apart, I’d only ever seen her in passing. A pair ofsharp eyes in the corner of a room, silent and watching everything around her.
Even then, she’d unsettled me.
Something about her is too still. Toomeasured. She carries herself like a predator used to disguising the scent of blood under silk and perfume. The kind of woman who doesn’t raise her voice because she doesn’t need to. She’s one who smiles after she’s already gutted you.
Maybe that’s why I instinctively squirm beneath her gaze, even now.
She’s seated in the armchair near the window, legs crossed neatly at the knee like she’s posing for a portrait. Her nails are polished a matte burgundy, fingers busily tearing tiny pieces off a granola bar wrapper like she’s unraveling something much more delicate. Not a hair is out of place. Her black top clings to her figure, elegant and unassuming. Combat boots rest on the carpet beneath her, heels scuffed but laced tightly. She hasn’t dressed for comfort. She’s dressed to fight.
She doesn’t look up when I shift under the covers, but she hears me.
