Page 103 of The Pakhan’s Debt by Leona White

“How?”

“Ask for verification. Question the order. Make Sergei correct you.”

A small smile pulls at my mouth. “That won’t be difficult.”

His mouth almost answers, then he stops.

“And if they try to move me?” I ask, my eyes on the marks on my wrist.

He lifts my chin with one finger and looks straight at me. “They’ll push you toward the service corridor.”

“Left or right?” I say, keeping my breath even.

“Left is a trap,” he says, letting my face go as he turns and walks to the window. He pulls the curtain back, checks the dark, then looks at me. “Right takes you to the back stair.”

I nod once. “Right.”

I step closer, closing the space he made. “If I’m separated⁠—”

“You won’t be,” he says, his hand catching my side.

“If I am,” I say, “listen.”

He stills and looks at me.

“The fallback runs through the warehouse chain, not fuel,” I say, my fingers brushing his coat. “Sergei guards what touches the child. If something breaks, you go through that.”

His eyes stay on mine. “And the registrar chain?”

“You know it,” I say, then I give it anyway. “Rykova proves it. Filatov records it. Semyonov confirms it. In that order.”

He nods once, tightly.

“And if Sergei holds something back?” I ask.

“He will.”

“I know,” I say. “So I’ll get it wrong on purpose and let him correct me.”

“He always does.”

“Yes.”

We hold there for a second.

He steps in without thinking, his hand still at my waist, keeping me close. I don’t move. His thumb shifts once against the fabric of my dress, slow enough to pull my breath short. His eyes drop to my mouth for a beat, then come back up.

“Don’t do that,” I say.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His hand catches my jaw.

“Like I’m not about to walk into a meeting where men decide what I’m worth,” I say, pushing his fingers off.

His jaw sets. “You’re not.”