Controlled.
Prepared.
Abandoned just in time.
Like he’s always one step ahead of us—always just far enough to stay out of reach.
The frustration builds slowly now. Not explosive like before. Worse than that. Controlled. Heavy. Focused into something that sharpens everything it touches.
By the time we clear the fourth location, I already know what I don’t want to admit out loud.
This isn’t a search.
It’s a loop.
A system.
And we’re running inside it.
Misha walks up beside me as we exit the latest site, shaking his head once. “Nothing again.”
I don’t respond immediately. My eyes stay forward, scanning the city like it’s going to give up something different if I look long enough.
It doesn’t.
My phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out fast.
Lukyan.
I answer immediately, irritation already in my voice.
“Yes?”
“Come back to the house,” he says, urgent. “Found something.”
Then the line cuts.
No explanation. No detail. Just that.
I don’t waste a second. I’m already moving before the call fully ends, getting into the car as the door opens and slams shut behind me.
The drive back feels too long for how fast we’re going. Every red light, every turn, every second wasted feels heavier than it should.
When I get back to the house, I don’t slow down. I head straight to my office.
Lukyan is already there. Standing. Waiting. Matteo’s laptop is open in his hands. His expression is different now—focused, but sharper. He’s seen something.
I don’t even take my coat off.
“What is it?” I ask immediately.
He looks up at me.
“This just came in,” he says.
He turns the laptop toward me. A stream of intercepted intelligence, mapped routes, encrypted movement data—already decoded enough to be clear.
Anton’s convoy.
