Chapter 15 The Plan
Chapter fifteen
The Plan
Mikhail
The warehouse in Brooklyn looks abandoned from the outside—broken windows, graffiti-covered walls, the kind of place the city forgot existed.
Inside, it's been transformed into a command center.
Alexei's people worked through the night setting up surveillance equipment, computers, and enough firepower to start a small war.
"This is excessive," Mariana says, but I can see she's impressed.
"It’s necessary." I guide her to the main table where building schematics are spread out. "Harrison chose the location—the federal building downtown, conference room on the fifteenth floor. He thinks he's in control."
"He is in control. It's his territory."
"Territory can be compromised." Mila appears from behind a bank of monitors, waving a USB drive. "I've got every camera, every security feed, even the private elevator Harrison uses. We'll see everything."
"That's… impressive," Mariana points out.
"We will not spare any resources or alternatives now," Alexei says, entering with coffee that smells expensive even from across the room. "Not when the future and survival of our family is at stake."
I watch my wife—wife, the word still feels foreign—study the building plans.
She's wearing all black today, her hair pulled back, looking every inch the federal agent despite being a fugitive.
The only sign of our marriage is the simple gold band on her finger, which she unconsciously twists when she's thinking.
"Harrison will have backup," she says. "Do we know anything about that yet?"
"Six men," I confirm. "Boris has been watching. They arrive separately, take positions throughout the building. Standard federal protection detail."
"Can you get past them?"
"I could kill them all in under three minutes."
She looks at me sharply. "No killing."
"I said I could, not that I would." I move behind her, close enough to smell her shampoo. "Though if any of them touch you—"
"They won't." She leans back against me slightly, and I have to fight the urge to pull her away from all this, lock her somewhere safe until it's over. "I'll be wired?"
"Audio and video," Mila confirms. "Latest tech, basically undetectable. We'll hear everything."
"And if Harrison finds it?"
"Then we go to Plan B," I say.
"Which is?"
"I kill everyone and we run to South America."
"Mikhail—"
"That's Plan C. Plan B is Alexei's people will create a distraction while I extract you." I turn her to face me. "Did you think I'd let you go in there without multiple exit strategies?"
"I know you don't, but it won't be necessary. I can handle Harrison."
"I know you can. That's not the point." My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "The point is you're carrying our child. My child. And every instinct I have is screaming at me not to let you do this."
"But you're going to, anyway."
I lean my forehead against hers. "But if anything feels wrong, if your instincts tell you to run, you run. Promise me."
"I promise."
She's lying. I can see it in her eyes—she'll stay until she gets what we need, regardless of the danger. It's one of the things I love about her, and also what terrifies me most.
"Lovebirds," Alexei interrupts. "We have a few hours left to finalize this. Can we focus?"
The next several hours are a blur of preparation.
Mila runs through the wire system three times, making sure the feed is clear.
Boris and his team map every entrance and exit, timing routes down to the second.
Alexei coordinates with his contacts inside federal law enforcement—not everyone is dirty, and some are eager to see Harrison fall.
Through it all, I watch Mariana transform. The soft woman who woke up in my arms this morning is gone, replaced by the federal agent who hunted me for two years. She's compartmentalizing, pushing down emotion to focus on the mission.
It's impressive and heartbreaking in equal measure.
"You're staring again," she says without looking up from the transcript she's reviewing—Harrison's past interrogations, looking for patterns in his speech.
"I thought we already made a point last night on that." I smile, but my tone reflects the lack of humor in my words.
"Last night you weren't trying to memorize my face like you'll never see it again."
She's too perceptive. I am memorizing her—every line, every expression, every tell that might help me know if she's in trouble tomorrow.
"Mikhail." She sets down the papers, comes to where I'm standing by the windows. "Stop it. I'm coming back."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise. To you, to our baby, to this insane family we're building."
"Our family," I repeat, pulling her against me. "You know, in Russian culture, it is a grave offense for a man to allow his wife to do anything that goes against their sacred status."
"Good thing I'm Mexican-American then. A strong, independent, decisive woman."
"Mariana—"
"I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But we don't have another choice."
"There's always a choice. We could run. Leave the country, start over somewhere Harrison can't reach."
"And let him keep trafficking witnesses and killing women? Never get justice for Anya? Living forever looking over our shoulders?" She shakes her head. "That's not a life. Not for us, not for our baby."
She's right. I know she's right. But the thought of her walking into that building, surrounded by Harrison's men, wearing a wire like a target on her back...
"If you don't come back," I say quietly, "I'll burn down the entire federal building."
"If I don't come back, I'd expect nothing less." She goes up on her toes, kisses me soft and sweet. "But I'm coming back."
Boris approaches, his expression grim. "We have a problem."
My body goes rigid. "What kind of problem?"
"Rodriguez. He's been asking questions, moving contacts, trying to find Mariana. He's getting close. He could represent a serious interference."
Mariana tenses. "Rodriguez wouldn't—"
"He's in love with you," I state flatly. "Love makes people do unexpected things."
"He's a good agent."
"Who thinks you've been corrupted by the dangerous criminal who kidnapped you." Boris hands me a tablet showing intercepted communications. "He's convinced you're being coerced. And he wants to 'save' you."
I read through Rodriguez's messages, my jaw clenching tighter with each word. He's painting himself as the hero, me as the villain, and Mariana as the damsel in distress who needs rescuing.
"He could compromise the entire operation," Alexei says. "If he shows up tomorrow—"
"He won't," I say with certainty. "Boris, have someone distract him. Nothing permanent, just... detained."
"Mikhail, you can't kidnap a federal agent," Mariana protests.
"I'm not kidnapping him. I'm ensuring he doesn't get himself killed trying to play hero. I know you won't forgive yourself if something happens to him tomorrow." I hand the tablet back to Boris. "Twenty-four hours. Comfortable but secure."
Boris nods and disappears.
"He's going to be furious," Mariana says.
"Better furious than dead. You know Harrison would kill him without hesitation if he interfered."
She doesn't argue because she knows I'm right. Rodriguez's misguided protection would only make things worse.
Mila approaches with a small device. "Final wire check. Mariana, this goes... well, somewhere Harrison won't think to check."
"Where?"
"Your bra. The transmitter is tiny, looks like an underwire. Even if he has you searched, they won't find it."
"And if they use electronic detection?"
"Then they'll find every cell phone, computer, and electronic device in a three-block radius," Mila grins. "I may have arranged some interference. Every metal detector and scanner in that building will go haywire at exactly 2 PM tomorrow."
"That's when the meeting is," Mariana realizes.
"Coincidence," Mila says innocently.
Despite everything, my wife laughs. "I'm starting to see the family resemblance."
"We're Russian," I tell her. "We don't do anything halfway."
"I've noticed."
The rest of the day passes in final preparations. By evening, we've run through the plan six times. Every contingency has been addressed, every variable accounted for.
Except one.
"What if he doesn't confess?" Mariana asks as we lie in bed that night, her head on my chest. "What if he's too smart?"
"Then we go with Plan B."
"The real Plan B, not the one where you kill everyone?"
"Mila releases everything she's found to every major news outlet simultaneously. Harrison will be too busy defending himself to come after us."
"That might not be enough."
"It will have to be." I tighten my arms around her.
"It will be enough to at least raise doubts about his reputation and subject him to an investigation, It will at least be enough to raise doubts about their reputation and subject them to an investigation.
And if that happens, we can help them gather more evidence, the kind they find undeniably credible. "
She props herself up on an elbow, looking down at me in the darkness. "What's really Plan A?"
"You know Plan A."
"No, I mean your plan. The one you're not telling me about."
Sometimes her perception is inconvenient. "If Harrison threatens you, if he does so much as touches you inappropriately, I extract you immediately. Confession or not."
"Mikhail—"
"Non-negotiable. You're my wife, you're carrying my child, and those two things matter more than justice, revenge, or clearing our names. You’ll be angry with me. But you'll be alive, which is better than the alternative."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then: "I love you."
"Even though I'm an overprotective caveman?"
She kisses me in response, long and deep. "Tomorrow, we will end this."
"Tomorrow," I agree.
But as she falls asleep against me, I run through my real Plan A—the one I haven't told anyone. If Harrison threatens my family, if he puts Mariana or our baby at risk, I'll kill him myself. Slowly. Painfully.
Justice is a luxury for people who can afford to wait for it.
I'm not one of those people. Not when it comes to her.
Tomorrow I'll be ready for whatever comes.