Emilia
I watch Konstantin walk out of my apartment, and terror claws up my throat.
He's going to tell Leonid Reznikov he's done. Just like that. Walk away from the only life he's known, the only family he's had for over a decade, all because of me. Because three nights ago I tried to poison a man at a masquerade, and Konstantin caught me instead of killing me.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I can't focus on the code. Can't think about phase three when all I can see is Konstantin's body bleeding out in some warehouse because Leonid doesn't accept resignations.
The Bratva doesn't let people walk away. Everyone knows that.
I should've stopped him. Should've told him we could run right now, disappear before anyone realizes what we've done to Troskoy. I have enough money stashed away. New identities prepared. I've been planning my exit strategy for six years.
But I didn't stop him because I understand. If we run now, we'll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. Konstantin needs to face Leonid. Needs to try to end this on his own terms, even if those terms get him killed.
And I need to finish what I started.
My hands shake as I turn back to the monitors. The files are ready. Every illegal deal Troskoy's made in the last fifteen years, compiled and organized with meticulous care. Gun running. Money laundering. Three murders that were never officially connected to him.
And the names. God, the names.
Bratva bosses. Politicians. Businessmen who've built empires on Troskoy's dirty money. They're all in here, documented in Troskoy's own encrypted files because the bastard kept insurance on everyone.
He just never thought anyone would be able to crack his security.
I check the timer. Two hours until the files go out. Two hours to make sure Konstantin's safe before I burn Troskoy's entire world to ash.
My phone buzzes. Konstantin.
I answer immediately. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." His voice is tight. "Leonid wants to meet tomorrow. Says he needs time to think about my request."
Relief and suspicion war in my chest. "That seems too easy."
"I know." There's a pause, and I hear traffic in the background. "That's why I'm coming back to you. We're not waiting around to see what he decides."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying we send those files tonight. Then we leave. Together."
My heart clenches. "You'd really walk away? Just like that?"
"Emilia." His voice drops, turns rough. "I'd burn the entire city down if it meant keeping you safe. Walking away is nothing."
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. Three days ago, I was alone. Three days ago, I thought the only thing I had left was revenge.
Now I have Konstantin. And revenge. And maybe even a future.
"Okay," I say. "Come back. We'll send the files and figure out our next move."
"Twenty minutes."
He hangs up, and I force myself to breathe. Twenty minutes. Then we'll be together, and we'll finish this.
I turn back to the monitors, checking the file distribution one more time. Everything's ready. All I have to do is change the timer from two hours to immediate, and Artur Troskoy's empire crumbles.
My computer chimes. An email, from an address I don't recognize.
The subject line reads: "You're making a mistake."
I stare at it for a long moment before opening it.
The message is short: "Troskoy knows about the accounts. He knows someone's been digging through his files. If you release those documents now, he'll disappear before the authorities can move. Wait. Give them time to position assets. I'll send you the signal when it's time."
There's no signature. No clue who sent it.
I should delete it. Should assume it's Troskoy trying to buy himself time, or one of his partners trying to delay the inevitable.
But something about the message nags at me.
If Troskoy knows someone's in his files, why hasn't he already run? Why is he still in town, still conducting business like nothing's wrong?
Unless he's setting a trap.
My phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer cautiously. "Hello?"
"Ms. Markova." The voice is smooth, cultured. Familiar. "This is Maksim Vasiliev. I hope I'm not interrupting."
Every muscle in my body tenses. "Not at all. How can I help you?"
"I was hoping we could continue our conversation from the other day. There are some details about the masquerade incident that still trouble me."
My heart pounds against my ribs. "I told you everything I know."
"I'm sure you did." There's something in his tone that makes my skin heat. "Still, I'd feel more comfortable if we could speak in person. Would you be available this evening?"
I glance at the clock. Konstantin will be here in fifteen minutes.
"I'm afraid I have plans this evening," I say carefully. "Perhaps tomorrow?"
"I really must insist, Ms. Markova." The politeness is gone now, replaced by steel. "There are some very serious allegations being made, and I'd like to clear them up before they become... problematic."
Allegations. About me, or about Konstantin?
"What kind of allegations?" I ask.
"The kind best discussed in person." A pause. "I can send a car in thirty minutes. Or I can come to you. Your choice."
It's not a choice. It's a threat.
I need to stall. Need to give Konstantin time to get here.
"An hour," I say. "Send the car in an hour. I need to finish some work first."
"Very well. One hour." He hangs up.
I immediately text Konstantin: "Maksim just called. Wants to bring me in for a chat. Says there are allegations. Coming for me in an hour."
Three dots appear. Then: "Don't go anywhere. I'm five minutes out. We're leaving now."
I start shutting down the monitors, packing everything I can't leave behind. Laptop. External drives. The fake passports I've had ready for years. Cash. A gun I’ve only ever fired on a range.
I'm halfway through packing when I hear the front door cick open.
Konstantin's key. He insisted on having the spare, said he needed to be able to get to me fast if something went wrong.
I exhale in relief and turn toward the door.
Except it's not Konstantin standing in my doorway.
It's Artur Troskoy.
He looks older than a few days ago. Grayer. But his eyes are the same. Cold. Calculating. The eyes of a man who's killed so many people he's lost count.
"Hello, Emilia." He steps inside, and two men follow him. Large men with guns. "Or should I say, hello again?"
My hand inches toward the gun on my desk.
"I wouldn't." One of Troskoy's men raises his weapon, pointing it directly at my chest. At the scar Troskoy put there six years ago.
"You're supposed to be dead," Troskoy says, moving farther into my apartment like he owns it. "I made sure of it. Shot you myself. Watched you bleed."
"Disappointed?" I keep my voice steady, even though my heart's trying to punch through my ribs. “How did you get in here?”
"Intrigued." He plucks a metal tool out of his pocket, waving it from side to side while tutting. His meaning is clear. He picked the lock. "Six years. You've been alive for six years, and I had no idea. That takes skill. Intelligence." His smile is ugly. "Your father would be proud."
"Don't talk about my father."
"Why not? He was a good man. Honorable. Weak, but honorable." Troskoy pockets his gadget. "He trusted the wrong people. Made the mistake of thinking loyalty meant something in this business."
"You mean he made the mistake of trusting you."
"Yes." He says it without shame. "And now you're making a similar mistake. Trusting Konstantin Grinevsky to save you."
Ice floods my veins. "How do you..."
"I know everything, Emilia." He gestures at my setup.
"I know you've been in my files. Know you've drained my accounts.” His jaw ticks and I can see the barely contained fury clawing at the edges of his face.
“Know you've been building a case against me.
" He steps closer. "And I know Grinevsky's been helping you.
Quite the betrayal, considering he's supposed to be Leonid's best enforcer. "
"Where is he?" I demand. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing. Yet." Troskoy's smile widens. "But Leonid's having a conversation with him right now. A conversation about loyalty. About consequences. About what happens to men who betray the Bratva for a dead woman."
No.
"Here's what's going to happen," Troskoy continues. "You're going to give me access to those files. All of them. Every piece of evidence you've compiled. And then you're going to delete every copy, every backup, every trace."
"And if I don't?"
"Then Konstantin Grinevsky dies. Slowly. Painfully. And I'll make sure you watch before I kill you too."
I stare at him, this man who murdered my family. This man who's haunted my nightmares for six years. This man who's now threatening the only person I've let myself care about since that night.
And I realize I have two choices. I can give him what he wants. Save Konstantin. Let Troskoy win.
Or I can call his bluff and hope I'm right.
"No," I say.
Troskoy's eyebrows rise. "No?"
"You heard me." I straighten, meeting his gaze. "You're not here because you're in control. You're here because you're desperate. If you had Konstantin, you'd have brought him. Used him as leverage. But you don't have him. You're hoping I'll panic and give you what you want."
One of his men shifts, gun steady on me.
"Careful, little girl," Troskoy says softly.
"You want those files because you know I can destroy you. But here's the thing." I smile, and it feels sharp as broken glass. "I already have."
I hit enter on my keyboard.
The files upload instantly. Every document. Every transaction. Every piece of evidence I've spent weeks compiling. Distributing to journalists, politicians, rival Bratva families, the FBI.
Troskoy lunges for me, but it's too late.
The damage is done.
"You stupid, little bitch," he snarls. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
"I've destroyed you." I back away from him, toward the window. "By tomorrow morning, you'll be the most wanted man in Russia and the United States. Your partners will turn on you. The authorities will freeze what meagre assets you have left. You'll have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. And right now while you’re here threatening me—" A laugh breaks through my words, disbelief that I’ve pulled it off, or hysteria, I’m not sure. “I’ve got contacts who are blowing up your three estates. They’ll be nothing but rubble within the hour. All of it. Gone.”
As if to prove my point, his phone buzzes in his jacket pocket.
“It’s over,” I add, rubbing the scar on my chest.
"Then I'll take you with me." He closes this distance between us and I know I’m cornered. A peace settles over me with such soft comfort that all I feel is calm. His hand closes around my throat, as he slams me against the wall.
I claw at his grip, but he's stronger. Older, yes, but still strong enough to kill me with his bare hands.
Black spots dance across my vision.
Then the apartment door crashes open.
Konstantin stands in the doorway, gun drawn, and his expression is murder.
"Get your hands off her," he says quietly.
Troskoy tightens his grip. "Or what, Grinevsky? You'll shoot me? You're already a dead man. Leonid knows everything."
"I know." Konstantin's aim doesn't waver. "I told him myself. Right before I told him where to find your offshore accounts in the Caymans. The ones you didn't think anyone knew about."
Troskoy's face goes pale.
"That's right," Konstantin continues. "The accounts you've been skimming from the Reznikovs for the last three years. Leonid's very interested in discussing that with you."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Konstantin smiles, cold and vicious. "Check your phone. I'll wait."
Troskoy's grip loosens slightly. I gasp in air, my throat burning.
One of his men pulls out a phone, checks something, then whispers urgently to Troskoy.
Troskoy's expression shifts from fury to fear.
"Leonid's on his way here," Konstantin says. "With half the Reznikov family. You have about three minutes to decide if you want to die fighting me, or if you want to try explaining to Leonid why you've been stealing from him."
Troskoy releases me completely. I slide down the wall, coughing.
"This isn't over," Troskoy says.
"Yes," Konstantin replies. "It is."
Troskoy and his men leave, shoving past Konstantin in their rush to escape.
The moment they're gone, Konstantin's at my side, hands gentle as he examines my throat.
"Are you okay?" His voice shakes. "Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine." My voice is raspy. "The files. I sent them. All of them."
"I know. I got the alert." He pulls me against his chest, and I can feel his heart pounding. "Jesus Christ, Emilia. When I walked in and saw his hands on you..."
"You saved me." I wrap my arms around him. "Again."
"Always." He kisses my forehead. "But we need to leave. Now. Leonid's actually not coming, but Troskoy will figure that out soon."
"Where do we go?"
"I have a place. A safe house outside the city. We can lay low there while everything plays out."
I pull back to look at him. "What happened with Leonid? You said he knows everything."
"He does." Konstantin's smile is grim. "But I also told him about Troskoy skimming from the Reznikov accounts. Gave him enough evidence to make it worth his while to let me walk."
"And he agreed?"
"He agreed to consider it. Which means we have maybe twenty-four hours before he decides if I'm more useful dead or alive." He helps me to my feet. "Either way, we can't be here."
I grab my bag, already packed. Konstantin takes my hand, and we run.