He might have been. We’ve been watching this place for days, and Konstantin hasn’t shown his face once. Like someone warned him to disappear.
I’m already out of bed, pulling on clothes. “Don’t let him leave. We’re on our way.”
By the time Dem and I reach Konstantin’s house, the sky’s lightening with that pale gray before dawn. This stretch of Brighton Beach is dead silent, not even a stray cat moving through the streets.
The house is exactly as Petr described. A small single-story with blue shingles and white trim. Dark windows. A gray Honda sits in the driveway, nothing flashy. Looks like every other house on this block.
“Lights were on when he got home,” Dem says as we crouch in the shadows near the property line. “Went dark about ten minutes ago.”
“Let’s split up.”
I signal my brothers. Matvey circles to the back door, Dem positions himself at the side window, and I take the front. If Konstantin tries to run, one of us will catch him.
I give them thirty seconds to get in position, and then I kick the door in.
The lock splinters, wood cracking as the door slams open. I move inside fast, gun up, sweeping left then right. Living room’s clear. I hug the wall, checking angles, weapon trained on the hallway leading deeper into the house.
I flip the light switch, and nothing happens.
“Power’s cut,” Matvey mutters as he moves past me, sweeping rooms with his gun drawn. “Clear. No one else here.”
Dem clicks on a flashlight. The beam cuts through the darkness, landing on overturned furniture. A laptop smashed on the floor. Papers scattered everywhere.
Then the light finds a body.
“Fuck,” Matvey breathes. “That’s him.”
Konstantin’s sprawled in the center of the room, a single bullet wound in his forehead. His eyes are still open, staring at nothing, and a dark stain has spread beneath his head.
I crouch next to the body. Maybe thirty, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans.
Dem kneels beside the body while I scan the wreckage. The laptop’s destroyed, hard drive ripped out. Phone in Konstantin’s pocket, screen spider-webbed and dark. Whoever was here didn’t want us finding anything.
“Kirill.” Matvey’s voice goes tight. He holds up something that catches the flashlight beam.
A silver coin. Bird of prey on both sides.
I take it from him. The metal is cold against my palm. Hot pressure blooms in my chest, poisoning every breath.
They’re fucking with us. Playing a game where they know all the rules, and we’re just stumbling around in the dark.
“Grab everything,” I say, standing and pocketing the coin. “Every piece of tech, every scrap of paper. We’ll see if our guys can salvage anything from the wreckage.”
Dem collects devices while I take one last look at Konstantin. Another dead end. Another coin. Another message.
“Let’s go,” I say. “We can talk outside.”
The predawn air is damp with salt. I walk toward the beach and my brothers follow. We don’t stop until we’re at the water’s edge, the ocean stretching out black and endless in front of us.
For a long moment, nobody speaks.
“How the fuck did they beat us here to kill him?” Matvey’s the first to break the silence, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Petr must have realized we were closing in and tipped him off.” Dem drags a hand across his brow and flicks his cigarette toward the water. “That’s why Konstantin went dark.”
“The Ghost could’ve been monitoring Konstantin’s communications,” I say. “Waiting to see if he’d resurface. The moment he came home, they moved.”
Matvey’s jaw tightens. “Makes sense if he’s working for them and they realized he was compromised.”
