Chapter 22 - Kliment
I stepped onto Russian soil with a single, unshakable certainty.
Someone had taken what was mine, and Saint Petersburg was about to bleed for it.
The cold hit first. It always did here. Not the kind that stung your skin for a moment and passed, but the kind that had already settled inside my heart.
I had spent all my life here, so the cold no longer mattered to me.
Especially right now, when I have never felt more like ice.
The air carried memory with it. I could practically smell old power, old violence, and old loyalties that had been carved in blood and fear.
For most men, this city was history.
For me, it was unfinished business.
I had left it a complete man, ready to venture into the unknown.
But the city had not taken it well and had once again called me to it, and this time, I was going to make sure that everyone knew Kliment Romanov was back.
And Kliment Romanov had returned to take back what was rightfully his.
No matter what lengths I had to go to in order to achieve that.
The private terminal had been secured before we landed.
Viktor stepped off the jet first, scanning with the same quiet precision that had made him indispensable.
Behind him, Romanov and Chernykh men moved in disciplined silence, already blending into preassigned roles. There was no chaos and hesitation.
We did not arrive like invaders, but instead, we arrived like something inevitable.
“The perimeter is clean, boss,” Viktor said, his voice low as I stepped down onto the tarmac. “First wave is already in position, and the safe houses have been secured. We are all set to begin operations here and look for Misha.”
I nodded once, my gaze sweeping the horizon.
“Has everyone relevant been contacted and brought back?” I asked.
“Yes, everyone has been reactivated,” he replied. “To be honest, they came back faster than I could have expected, as if they were waiting for a call from you.”
Of course they were. I had not ruled this city gently, and men still remembered what I was and who I was.
And more importantly, they remembered what happened when I was crossed.
We moved without delay since we definitely had no time to waste.
Misha was already here, and I simply needed to get to her.
Black vehicles waited just beyond the terminal, their engines running.
There were no insignias and no traceable plates because I wanted things to be clean.
If Volkov and Sidorov found out I was back, they would go to any lengths to keep Misha away from me.
I couldn’t risk that happening.
By the time I slid into the back seat, my phone was already buzzing.
I answered without looking at the number. “Romanov speaking.”
“Everyone in the old networks has heard that you are back.” The voice on the other end was older and careful.
It was respectful in a way that could never be faked.
That was what I liked about Russia. Hierarchies mattered, and positions that were established once remained forever.
Too many people here had sworn their loyalties to me, and I knew their return only depended on one call from my end.
“They always do,” I said.
There was a pause before the question came, quieter this time, “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I asked, even though a part of me already knew what he meant.
“There have been rumors that you are here to get a girl back. Misha Chernykh. Is that true?”
I leaned back slightly, my gaze fixed on the passing city as we pulled away. “Yes, it is true. They took her, and I won’t return until I get her back.”
Silence stretched for half a second too long.
“Understood.”
That was all. No questions and no hesitation, because men like him knew exactly what that meant.
War.
***
The first safe house was operational within the hour.
It was not large, but it did not need to be.
What mattered was control and the layers of security my men had already arranged.
The place had limited access points, and all the blind spots were already mapped and eliminated.
I could not risk anyone getting here if I didn’t want them to.
I still had enemies in Russia who would go running to Sidorov on the first sign of my arrival. I needed to be careful.
Inside, the room had already been transformed.
Maps were stretched across the central table, and screens displaying port activity, financial routing chains, and surveillance feeds lit the walls.
Viktor had made sure that everything was done and all information and footage pulled from both Russian and international networks were before me.
Everyone was here. My men. Chernykh men.
And Misha’s team. No one wanted to be left behind since getting Misha back was the number one priority.
I noticed the Chernykh tech specialists were already working alongside Romanov analysts without friction, their focus absolute.
This was not an alliance born of trust. It was one born of necessity. And it worked.
Nico stood near the far end of the table, arms crossed, and his expression unreadable as he reviewed incoming data.
Jarek was beside him, pacing like a caged animal, energy barely contained.
Across from them, Avgust leaned over a screen, speaking quietly with one of Misha’s operatives.
Iosif stood behind him, silent but fully engaged, his presence as controlled as ever.
For a moment, I watched them all. Two empires that should have been tearing each other apart were standing in the same room, and it was all because of her. For her.
“She would hate how slow this whole process is,” Timofey muttered from somewhere to my left.
I did not look at him.
“She would call it inefficient,” I said.
A faint, humorless smirk touched his mouth.
“She would call all of us inefficient, grab a laptop, and begin working on it herself. It had always been hard for her to relinquish control, even in the smallest of things. We could be deciding something as simple as what to have for dinner, and everyone would be fighting for their options, and Misha would simply get up, announce a decision, and force all of us to follow through. Always.”
I could see that Timofey was missing her. The two of them were rather close from Misha had told me one day when she had discussed her family with me.
“We will get her back, Timofey,” I reassured him once again, but the reassurance was more for myself than for him.
“I know.”
I stepped forward, the room shifting almost imperceptibly as attention redirected.
“I need the status on everything,” I said.
Sera spoke immediately, her eyes glued to the screen while she continued talking.
“We’ve mapped recent port traffic tied to Sidorov’s known routes.
There’s a gap of approximately twelve hours between his last confirmed activity in Miami and the first flagged movement here.
We have confirmation that he is here, but we just need confirmation on both his and Misha’s locations. ”
“What was the transport method?” I asked.
“Private, just as we figured earlier,” Viktor answered, already pulling up the data. “It was a shell company aircraft, and the data is clean with no direct ties to anything Bratva-related. He is playing it safe, or at least Volkov is forcing him to play it safe to keep us from finding anything.”
“Of course he is,” Jarek muttered.
“Any financial trails giving us possible locations?” I asked.
Another screen flickered, numbers cascading.
“Everything is fragmented,” Alina replied. “There are multiple currencies being used in the linked shell accounts, and everything is layered and firewalled. It is almost impossible to gain access. But there are convergence points.”
My gaze sharpened.
“Show me.”
She expanded the routing map, and I could see lines overlapping one another before they split and reconnected.
It was all forming a pattern which was subtle but intentional and very, very familiar.
The tokens coming in seemed like an entry fee, and the account was being cleared for bigger transactions later.
In Volkov’s business, the only big transactions were auctions.
My pulse quickened as the realization seeped in.
“Auctions,” I said quietly.
The room stilled.
Avgust straightened slightly. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” I replied, my gaze falling on Iosif, who had been quiet up until now.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have seen these financial patterns before, and given what we know about Sidorov and Volkov, it could mean nothing else.”
I stepped closer to the screen, studying the structure one more time.
“This isn’t random distribution,” I continued. “This is consolidation showing us high-value movement and pre-event positioning, and from what I can tell, this event is going to be a huge one.”
Iosif’s voice cut through the silence. “Explain.”
I did not look away from the data.
“Private auctions operate on predictability masked as chaos,” I said. “Assets are moved in stages. They are secured and cataloged before being presented.”
“And only the highest bidders are invited, I assume?” Avgust asked. He knew about the auctions happening in Miami already. That was where he had found Ilana, but the auctions happening in St. Petersburg were much bigger and far more dangerous. The stakes were higher, and the buyers were richer.
“Found something,” Diane chimed in, appearing rather pale.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There are multiple subtle hints on the dark web about an auction happening soon here, in St. Petersburg. Everyone is talking in a coded language, but I am sure this is what it means. It seems as if invitations have been sent out and accepted, and the planning was done weeks in advance.”
“They’re preparing for an auction,” Nico finished.
“Yes.”