Konstantin
I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows and my phone buzzing insistently.
Leonid.
Emilia stirs beside me. "What time is it?"
"Just after eight." I look at the phone, at Leonid's name flashing on the screen. "He's calling."
She sits up, suddenly alert. "Are you going to answer?"
I consider letting it go to voicemail. Putting off the inevitable for a few more hours. But that's coward's thinking, and I've never been a coward.
I answer. "Leonid."
"Konstantin." His voice is neutral, giving nothing away. "We need to talk."
"I'm listening."
"Not on the phone. In person." A pause. "I'm not interested in hunting you down. But I need to understand what the fuck happened with Troskoy, and I need to hear it from you."
"When?"
"Today. Noon. The warehouse on Pushkin Street. Come alone."
"I don't think so." I glance at Emilia. "If I'm coming, she's coming with me."
"The Markov girl?" Leonid sounds surprised. "You really did go all in on this, didn't you?"
"Yes."
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Fine. Bring her. But Konstantin, you should know Vasiliev will be there and if this is a trick, if you're planning something..."
"I'm not." I meet Emilia's eyes. "I'm done with tricks. I just want to walk away clean."
"Then we'll see if that's possible. Noon. Don't be late."
He hangs up.
Emilia's watching me, worry clear on her face. "Is this a trap?"
"Maybe." I pull her closer. "But it's also our best chance at negotiating a clean exit. Leonid's smart. If I can convince him I'm more useful as an ally than an enemy, he'll let us go."
"And if you can't convince him?"
"Then we fight our way out and run like hell." I kiss her, hard and fast. "But I don't think it'll come to that. Leonid respects strength. Respects honesty. I'll give him both."
We spend the morning preparing. I clean my guns, check my ammunition. Emilia works on her laptop, pulling up additional files on Troskoy's empire, insurance in case we need more leverage.
At ten, we get in the car and drive back to the outskirts of a city I never thought I’d see again.
The warehouse on Pushkin Street is one of the Reznikov's neutral meeting grounds. Big enough to hold a small army, isolated enough that no one hears gunfire.
Perfect for an execution. Or a negotiation.
Leonid's waiting inside with Maksim Vasiliev and his two most trusted men. No one else. That's a good sign.
"Konstantin." Leonid nods at me, then looks at Emilia. "Ms. Markova. Or should I say, Ms. Markov?"
"Either is fine," Emilia says calmly.
Leonid studies her for a long moment. "Your father was a good man. Honorable. I was sorry to hear what happened to him."
"Were you sorry enough to do something about it?" Her voice is sharp.
"No." Leonid doesn't apologize. "Troskoy was useful. Your father's death, while unfortunate, was his own business to settle. Not mine."
"And now?" I ask.
"Now Troskoy's empire is burning. The authorities are closing in. His partners are turning on him." Leonid's smile is thin. "And I have evidence that he's been stealing from me for years. So now, Troskoy's my business."
"What are you going to do?" Emilia asks.
"What I should've done years ago. Remove him." Leonid turns his attention to me. "Which brings us to you, Konstantin. You betrayed me. Helped an outsider destroy one of our own. That kind of disloyalty usually ends badly."
I don't flinch. "I know."
"But." Leonid holds up a hand. "You also gave me information that saved me millions. Exposed a traitor in our ranks. And you did it knowing it would cost you everything."
He walks closer, studying my face.
"Why?" he asks. "Why throw away a decade of loyalty for a woman you barely knew?"
"Because she made me remember I'm human." The truth comes easily. "Because I was tired of being your weapon. Because I wanted something more than just following orders until someone puts a bullet in me."
Leonid's quiet for a long moment.
Then he laughs. Actually laughs.
"You know what? I respect that." He claps me on the shoulder. "You've been my best enforcer for ten years. Never questioned orders. Never failed a job. You've earned the right to walk away."
I don't let myself feel relief yet. "What's the cost?"
"Two things." Leonid holds up two fingers. "One, you never work against Reznikov interests. You're out, but you're not an enemy. We have an understanding?"
"Understood."
"Two, you help me find Troskoy. He's gone to ground, and I want him found before the authorities get him. This is personal now."
I glance at Emilia. She nods slightly.
"Done," I say. "I know where he'll run. Give me forty-eight hours."
"You have twenty-four." Leonid extends his hand. "After that, we're done. You're free of me. Both of you. The Vasiliev’s on the other hand…"
I shake his hand, sealing the deal.
Maksim steps forward.
“Ms. Markova, I’m truly sorry for what you endured. I didn’t know your father, but I have heard great things.”
Emilia nods, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“However,” Maksim continues, voice like gravel over steel, “the Bratva Masquerade is neutral ground. Your intent to poison Troskoy, regardless of whether his death was imminent, broke that code. We cannot allow emotion, vengeance, or grief to dictate actions here.” He pauses, studying her with an assessing calm.
“That said, you rid us of a parasite. For that, leniency will be shown, but a price must still be paid. Order only exists when the rules apply to all.”
Maksim sighs.
“As the hosts of the Masquerade this year, you will answer to my family for ninety days. Your…technological services will be utilised however we see fit.” He hands her a mobile phone. “Only my brothers and I have the number. Do the work. Keep your head down. Break trust and the price doubles.”
Emilia takes the phone and slips it into her back pocket with a nod. “I accept the consequences and will pay.”
Pride shakes through me as we leave the warehouse together, her hand tight in mine.
"We're really walking away," she says, wonder in her voice. "We're going to be okay."
"We're going to be better than okay." I pull her against me, kiss her hard. "We're going to be happy."
"I love you," she whispers.
"I love you too." I rest my forehead against hers. "Now let's go finish this. One last job. Then we're done."