Page 102 of The Pakhan’s Debt by Leona White

The corridor feels tighter now, with guards posted at new corners and fewer men moving without purpose. A few familiar guards are gone from their posts, and two new men stand where I’ve never seen them before, which means Dima has already cut into the rotation.

We pass the east stair, where a guard stands on the second landing. He nods at Maksim. Maksim keeps walking.

Neither of us speaks, and I enter his room first while he follows behind me and shuts the door, cutting off the corridor, the guards, and the house waiting outside.

We’re alone now, and he stays by the door with his hand still on the handle. His eyes stay on me, his coat open, his shirt pulled tight across his chest, and the smell of soap and cigarette smoke reaches me before he does.

He takes one step, then stops. I can see how much he wants to come closer, and I can see the effort it takes him not to. The room is empty, no one close enough to hear us, and he stands there with the words sitting in his throat, held back. His gaze meets mine for a second, then drops, and he turns away. He crosses to the sideboard and pours water, the glass steady in his hand, then he stops halfway and looks at it like he doesn’t need it anymore. He sets it down untouched.

I step farther into the room.

The lamps sit low, and the bed is made tight, sheets smooth, pillows straight, every crease handled by some careful hands. Maksim’s jacket hangs over the chair, and for one stupid second I remember how good he looked wearing it. I stay where I am and wait for him to speak.

He turns back to me slowly, and we stand there without moving, close enough to touch, and neither of us reaches.

“You’re set on this,” he says, letting the breath go with it.

I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.”

He nods once. He knows, and he still wants a different answer anyway. His eyes drop to my stomach for a second before coming back to my face and holding there.

“Then we do it properly.”

I step closer. “We already are.”

“No,” he says and steps in until I have to lift my chin. His hand closes around my wrist, firm, holding me there while he looks at me. “Properly means you walk in knowing what breaks first.”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

I don’t pull away. “Sergei wants to use me to lock everything in place and tie it to the baby. Moretti will push in before we finish. Karpov only needs to move early, turn your men, and break the meeting.”

His eyes shift over my face slowly, like he’s checking whether it’s really that simple. One side of his nose catches the light as something sharp moves through his gaze.

“That easy, huh?” he says.

Then his voice drops, leaving no space to argue. “And if you’re taken?”

My throat tightens, but I keep my eyes on his. “Then everything becomes a negotiation.”

“No,” he says, his voice cutting clean. “If you’re taken, they lay anchor in my house.”

“And?” I know the answer before he says it.

“They prove they can reach me through you.”

The words land and stay. Then his hand slides to my arm, up to my shoulder, and stops there before he pulls it back.

“Two men,” he says, stepping back half a pace. “If everything breaks, you look for Dima and Ilya. No one else.”

I nod. “Dima holds the line. Ilya moves the exits.”

“Good.”

“And if I need time?”

His eyes stay on mine. “You stall.”