Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AVELINA
After putting the children to bed, I go to the office to finish a last email regarding an imminent shipment.
In front of the screen, I blink at the subject line I don’t recognize.
RE: Cement Plant.
Buried between receipts and other such messages, the email catches my eye because it’s from Viktor’s personal email. There’s no greeting. No sign-off or attached invoice. Just a short thread with coordinates—that I totally put into an online map—and phrases that make a shiver run down my spine.
Final move. Target confirmed.
He sent it to Grigory, Matvey, and Nikolai. And he obviously sent it by mistake to the main business email.
I click through the email trail. Every word is clinical, calculated. Reference to Gennady. The Albanians. Some rusted-out cement place on the north edge of town.
No time. No explanation. Just the kind of message to remind himself. The kind someone sends before they do something dangerously stupid.
I reread it twice. Then a third time.
He’s already gone.
He left half an hour ago with a kiss that left me breathless.
The air leaves my lungs in sharp, cold rushes. I slam close the laptop and stand a little too fast, nearly knocking over the chair.
I should be upstairs with Sofia or checking on Leon. I know I should. But I also know that Babulya is keeping an eye on them. And my feet take me in the opposite direction toward the door.
He doesn’t know Gennady like I do. He doesn’t know who he’s walking toward. Gennady is FSB. Trained. Dangerous. He doesn’t play fair. And as ruthless and badass as Viktor is, Gennady is a soulless beast.
I scribble a note in Russian to Babulya, then slip out before I can change my mind.
My mind whirls as I drive.
I don’t text Viktor. I don’t call. I don’t want to risk distracting him.
The cement plant rises in the distance like a graveyard. Hollow. Industrial. Forgotten. Creepy.
Parking behind a pile of scrap metal, I look around. Five SUVs. Three of which I vaguely recognize. But it’s too quiet.
Then I hear it.
Gunfire.
Muffled but close.
My heart lodges in my throat as I slip out of the car, staying low and creeping along the fence line. My hands shake as I scramble under a bent portion of the chain link, scraping my palm on gravel, but I barely feel it.
This is stupid. Idiotic and reckless. And yet I don’t turn around. I can’t.
I crouch near an old delivery truck. I catch a flash of movement. A black SUV. Men in tactical gear shouting.
Then Viktor.
He’s running after someone, gun in hand, cutting across the lot like a dark shadow with a sole purpose. The man he’s after is unmistakable even in the low sunlight.
My heart thunders.
Gennady.
I feel a scream burn through my throat. But I swallow it down. “No,” I croak. “No, no, no—”
Gennady ducks behind a wrecked trailer.
Viktor rounds the corner after him.
A gunshot rings out. Sharp and brutal.
The world shatters.
Viktor slumps.
Collapses.
And Gennady sprints off into the darkness.
I hesitate until I see Viktor drag himself across the ground and radio for help. And in that split second, I decide to chase after Gennady.
I don’t know what’s making me do this. But I get the feeling that there might be more to come.
Gennady is thorough.
He doesn’t do anything by halves.
I’m light and quick on my feet as I follow his silhouette through the inky night.
Then I see Gennady duck into the shadows behind an outbuilding.
Is he just catching his breath?
Why isn’t he getting away?
Why is he lurking?
And why is he suddenly circling back to Viktor and the other men?