They knew the window. My phone vibrates before I stand.
Yuri.
“They just moved,” he says. “You weren’t supposed to be there when it happened.”
“Where?” I ask.
“I don’t have a destination yet,” he replies. “But I have confirmation.”
“Say it.”
“Council channel lit up,” he says. “Authorization phrase only elders use. No chatter. No follow-up.”
“They signed it.”
“Yes,” he says.
I straighten. “Which faction?”
“That’s the point,” Yuri says. “All of them. This wasn’t competition. It was consensus.”
That’s worse.
“They’ll hold her,” I say.
“For now,” Yuri agrees. “She’s leverage, not disposal.”
“They want me loud,” I say.
“They want you contained,” he corrects. “If you react wrongly, they’ll justify erasing you next.”
I end the call.
Another line lights up. Pavel.
“She’s gone,” he says. Not a question.
“Who benefits?” I ask.
“Sergei Orlov’s great-uncle pushed for order,” Pavel replies. “But Vasiliev’s been circling since the funeral. He hates loose ends.”
“Who carried it out?”
“Professional crew,” he says. “Not Vasiliev’s style. He likes noise and spectacle. This didn’t leave any.”
“So elders approved and subcontracted.”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzes again. Oleg’s name flashes on the screen. I end the first call and answer.
“They’re freezing accounts,” he says. “Slowly, in pieces. You’ll be boxed in.”
“I’ll be finished before that,” I say. “How long?”
“That depends,” he replies. “If you keep your head down, you survive longer.”
I breathe out once. “That’s not an option.”
