Chapter 17 Pyotr
Pyotr
I’m about to bet everything on a woman I’ve known for fourteen days.
Kira sits cross-legged on the living room floor with her dinosaurs arranged in what she’s informed me is a very important meeting. Something about the T. Rex being in trouble for eating all the snacks.
I’d find it funny if I wasn’t about to make a phone call that could end my career… or my life.
Daria is at the kitchen counter with her arms wrapped around herself. She’s been quiet since we picked up Kira this morning. The drive home was filled with her daughter’s chatter about pancakes and Natasha’s cat, but the moment we walked through the door, reality settled back in.
“Kira, sweetheart.” Daria prompts her daughter, “why don’t you take your dinosaurs to your room? They can have their meeting on your bed.”
“But Mama, the living room is better for meetings because it’s bigger.”
“I know, baby, but Pyotr and I need to make an important phone call, and it’s going to be boring grownup stuff.”
Kira wrinkles her nose. “How boring?”
“Very boring. Taxes and paperwork.”
That does the trick. She scoops up her dinosaurs and trudges toward her bedroom with the dramatic sigh of a child being subjected to unimaginable injustice.
“She’ll stay in there for at least an hour if she thinks we’re talking about taxes.” Daria chuckles nervously.
“Smart kid.”
“She gets it from me.” A ghost of a smile crosses her face before it fades. “Are you sure about this? Once you make that call, there’s no taking it back.”
“I’m sure.”
“Dmitri could decide I’m guilty. He could decide you’ve been compromised. He could—”
“Daria.” I walk into the kitchen and stop in front of her. “I’ve thought through every scenario. I know what I’m risking. The question is whether you’re ready to hear his decision.”
She takes a breath and squares her shoulders. “I’m ready. I’ve been running long enough.”
She’s standing close enough that I can smell her shampoo. The same scent was all over my pillow this morning. My fingers twitch at my side, remembering the way her skin felt under my hands last night.
The urge to pull her in hits so fast that I lock my jaw to keep my body in line.
Not now. Focus.
I pull out the secure phone Dmitri issued me and dial. It rings twice before he picks up.
“Report.”
No greeting or small talk. That’s Dmitri.
“I have a full assessment. It’s complicated, and you’re going to want to hear the details before you make any decisions.”
“I’m listening.”
I draw in a breath, hold it, and then I tell him everything.
The planted evidence, Bogdan’s blackmail operation, the accounts set up without Daria’s knowledge, and the threats against a five-year-old girl who doesn’t understand why her father only exists as a voice on the phone that makes her mother cry.
I walk him through the timeline, the forgeries, and the pattern of coercion that’s kept Daria trapped for years.
Daria chimes in here and there, mostly to clarify or provide more details.
What I don’t tell him is how I feel about her. I don’t mention the way she fits against me when I hold her, or the sound she makes when she comes apart in my hands, or the fact that I’d burn down all of St. Petersburg to keep her safe without even really understanding why.
Dmitri isn’t stupid. He’ll figure out the personal angle. But I won’t hand it to him.
When I finish, the line goes quiet for a moment before Dmitri speaks. “And you believe her.”
“I do. The information she’s been providing Bogdan is low-level. Nothing that would damage operations.”
“That’s your professional assessment.”
“Yes.”
Dmitri exhales on the other end. “The problem is Yevgeny. If we move against Bogdan without proof…"
“So, we get proof. Show Yevgeny his nephew’s been building a power base behind his back. Using Lebedev resources against Kozlov interests.”
“And then?”
“Yevgeny will demand we eliminate the problem. And we’ll redirect the feds to Bogdan. They’ll have a bigger target, and we get Bogdan out of the picture."
Silence on the line. I can almost hear him thinking.
“Put her on again,” Dmitri orders.
I hold the phone out to Daria. She takes it, turns off the speakerphone, and raises it to her ear.
She clears her throat. “Yes, I’m here.”
I can’t hear him any longer, so I watch her face. Whatever he’s saying isn’t gentle. Her shoulders curl inward before she catches herself and straightens.
“I know,” she acknowledges. “I know I should have come to you years ago. I was ashamed. I thought I could handle it myself, and by the time I realized I couldn’t, I was too deep.”
More listening. A muscle in her jaw twitches.
“No. I never gave him anything that could hurt the family. Even when he threatened Kira, I found ways to give him information that looked valuable but wasn’t. Old contacts and outdated details. Things that wouldn’t lead anywhere useful.”
She pauses and swallows hard.
“Because I’m a Kozlov. Even if I’ve been living like I’m not, even if I’ve been hiding and pretending my name doesn’t mean anything, I couldn’t betray my family. Not in any way that mattered.”
She closes her eyes and breathes. When she opens them again, they’re wet, but no tears fall.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I won’t let you down.”
She hands the phone back to me and wraps her arms around herself again.
“Pyotr.” Dmitri’s voice is all business now. “You have seven days left on your assignment. I need that evidence compiled and verified before the federal deadline. Tony will provide remote support for tracing the financial networks. Boris has a team on standby in St. Petersburg if you need muscle.”
“Understood.”
“One more thing.” He pauses, and I brace myself.
“I’m not stupid. I can hear what’s not in your report.
Whatever personal involvement you have with my cousin is your business…
until it compromises the operation. If she’s playing you to buy time, or if any of this turns out to be a manipulation, you won’t survive the consequences. Are we clear?”
My gaze flicks to Daria, and I measure my next words.
A lump lodges in my throat, but I reply with conviction anyway. “Clear.”
“Good. Get the evidence. And keep my cousin and her daughter safe until this is over.”
As he hangs up, Daria stares at me in both hope and terror. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and I have to look away before I do something stupid like cross the kitchen and bite it myself.
“What did he say at the end?” she asks.
“He gave me authorization to proceed.”
“That’s not all he said.”
I toss the phone on the counter. She doesn’t need the reminder of what I’m risking; she’s swimming in enough guilt as it is. “We have seven days to build a case strong enough to satisfy Yevgeny and redirect the federal investigation. It’s tight, but it’s enough.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve built cases like this before. Tony is one of the best forensic analysts in the organization, and Bogdan isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. Men like him leave trails. They get comfortable and stop being careful. We just have to find the threads and pull.”
“And if we can’t find enough in seven days?”
“We will.”
“But if—”
“Then I’ll figure something else out. But we’re not there yet, so stop borrowing trouble.”
“My grandmother used to say that all the time. ‘Don’t borrow trouble, Daria. It charges interest.’”
“Smart woman.”
“She was. She died when I was sixteen. Sometimes I wonder what she’d think of all this.”
“I think she’d be proud of you for surviving it.”
From down the hallway, a small voice calls out. “Mama? Can I come out now? The dinosaurs finished their meeting, and Mr. Rex said he was sorry for eating the snacks.”
Daria laughs and sniffles before replying, “Yes, baby. You can come out.”
The door bursts open, and Kira barrels down the hall with her T. Rex clutched against her chest. She skids to a stop in front of us and looks between our faces with the uncanny perception children have.
“Were you talking about something sad? You look like you were talking about something sad.”
“We were talking about grownup things,” Daria tells her. “But it’s all sorted now.”
Kira turns to me and tugs on my sleeve. “Pyotr, will you play dinosaurs with me? Mama’s bad at it. She makes the plant-eaters just stand there and get eaten.”
I glance at Daria. She nods, and something in her eyes tells me she needs a few minutes while she works through everything.
“Sure, malyshka.” I crouch to Kira’s level. “Show me which ones are the fighters.”
She grabs my hand and drags me toward the living room, explaining the complex social dynamics of her dinosaur collection. Behind us, Daria moves to the kitchen sink and turns on the water. She’s probably splashing her face, composing herself before her daughter notices anything wrong.
I’ve got seven days to destroy a man who’s been destroying her for years.
I’ve worked with less time and worse odds.
As Kira hands me a triceratops and instructs me on proper dinosaur combat etiquette—apparently, there are rules about biting, and the stegosaurus is a notorious cheater.
I start running through the evidence we’ll need.
Financial records linking Bogdan to organizations that threaten Lebedev interests, communication logs proving he acted alone, and a paper trail that leads to him and nowhere near Daria.
Kira makes her T. Rex roar at my triceratops, and I respond with what I hope is a convincing herbivore battle cry. She giggles with delight, and for a moment, the weight of everything lifts just enough.
This is what I’m protecting. Not just Daria, but this. The giggles. The dinosaur meetings. The small, ordinary moments that Bogdan has poisoned with fear for three years.
When this is over, when he’s nothing but a memory and a warning to anyone else who might think about threatening what’s mine, I will make sure they never have to be afraid again.
That’s not a promise I made to Dmitri.
That’s a promise I’m making to myself.