I stop myself before the rest comes out.
Mike steps closer and places a hand briefly on my shoulder.
“Don’t blame yourself,” he says. “It happens.”
That doesn’t make it better. It just makes it real.
I exhale slowly through my nose, forcing my mind back into structure instead of guilt. Emotion gets people killed in situations like this. I know that better than anyone.
Lukyan pushes himself up from his seat. “Let’s go to the interrogation room.”
I stand immediately.
We leave the office together, footsteps sharp against the corridor floor. Just as we reach the interrogation room, the doors open from the other side.
Elena is brought in under heavy guard.
She doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t resist. Doesn’t even look around the room the way most people do when they realize where they are.
Her expression is calm. Composed. Almost too steady.
No fear.
No regret.
That alone tells me more than anything else so far.
The guards seat her at the table and step back immediately. The room resets into silence.
Lukyan takes a position near the wall, arms folded, watching carefully without speaking. Misha stays behind me. Mike stands off to the side, expression unreadable.
I step forward.
Slow. Controlled.
Elena finally looks at me.
Still calm. Still intact.
I don’t waste time. I don’t offer her the comfort of ambiguity. I turn the tablet toward her. The CCTV footage plays.
Kitchen. Movement. Timing. Repetition.
Her presence in places she shouldn’t be. Her hands where they don’t belong.
I watch her face as she watches it.
Nothing shifts immediately.
No surprise. No panic.
Just awareness.
Like she’s been waiting for this moment longer than I have.
I stop the video.
“Explain it,” I say flatly.
