31. Katya
Katya
I see Dmitri’s face with every step I take through Moscow’s alleys.
The hurt in his eyes when I called him my kidnapper won’t leave me.
Three hours ago, I watched everything between us fall apart in his office.
After our fight, I locked myself in the bedroom, trying to figure out my next move.
Pavel’s unsigned documents stared from the dresser, demanding a decision I wasn’t ready for.
Sign, and I betray the man I love. Refuse and face whatever punishment my handlers decide.
Neither felt like a choice.
That’s when I realized I needed to talk to Pavel alone, away from Dmitri and FSB surveillance. If I’m going to make an informed decision about my future, I need to understand what my handlers expect from me.
The abandoned warehouse district sprawls before me like a concrete graveyard. Perfect location for a clandestine meeting between operatives who don’t want their conversation recorded.
I texted Pavel two hours ago using the secure number he gave me, and he agreed to meet without asking questions.
Smart man.
He knows this conversation was inevitable.
I spot his familiar figure leaning against a shipping container near the river, and my stomach churns with anxiety. The last time we spoke, I was still pretending to be the confused amnesia victim.
Now, I have to drop the act.
“Agent Sidorov.” His voice is stripped of the concern Pavel the consultant once showed. “I wondered when you’d seek me out.”
“So, you knew.”
“I suspected. Your responses were too sophisticated for someone with genuine memory loss. You were testing me as much as I was testing you.”
“I need to know my options. My memories are back, I know who I am, and I need to understand what the FSB expects of me.”
“You’ve been compromised beyond hope of operational recovery. The question is whether you’re ready to accept extraction or if we need to implement alternative measures.”
Alternative measures.
FSB-speak for eliminating assets who’ve become liabilities.
“I remember my mission parameters. I remember Operation Nightfall. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t extract me the second you found out where I was. Why are my handlers treating me like a threat instead of a victim who needs rescue?”
Pavel brings his hands around his back and starts to circle me. “Because extraction would’ve blown surveillance on Kozlov. Your amnesia gave us the perfect chance to watch him through someone he trusted.”
“So, you turned my trauma into an intelligence operation.”
“We capitalized on an unexpected opportunity. But somewhere along the line, you stopped being a victim and became a willing participant.”
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Since the moment you woke up in the hospital bed. Viktor wanted real-time intelligence on your recovery and your relationship with Kozlov.”
“And what did you report?”
“That you’ve been emotionally compromised beyond hope of professional recovery. That Agent Sidorov has developed genuine feelings for her target and can no longer be trusted to act in the FSB’s interests.”
“Those feelings developed while I had amnesia. I wasn’t making conscious choices about my emotional responses. I was a blank slate responding to the only person showing me kindness.”
Even as I say the words, I know they’re not entirely true.
The connection I felt with Dmitri went deeper than gratitude or trauma bonding, but admitting that to Pavel would only confirm his assessment of my compromise.
Pavel stops circling and faces me. His eyes hold none of the warmth I remember from our interactions at the estate. This is Agent Romanov, my former partner, and he’s looking at me like I’m a stranger.
“The FSB invested three years training you for deep cover operations. We spent eighteen months preparing Operation Nightfall. We placed you in a position to bring down one of Moscow’s most dangerous criminal organizations.”
“And I gathered enough intelligence to complete that mission. The explosion temporarily destroyed my memory, not my commitment to the operation.”
“Your commitment?” Pavel barks out a laugh. “You’ve been sleeping with the target for weeks. You’ve integrated yourself into his organization as his wife. You’ve actively protected him from government surveillance.”
“I was suffering from memory loss!”
“Bullshit. You’ve been playing both sides, hoping to find some magical solution that lets you keep Kozlov while avoiding consequences for your professional betrayal.”
I wince at the accusation, because it’s partially true.
Some part of me hoped I could find a way to protect Dmitri without destroying myself professionally.
“What does Viktor want from me?”
“Your complete cooperation in building a case against Kozlov. Detailed testimony about his operations, his personnel, and his financial structure. Everything you learned during your infiltration.”
“And if I provide that cooperation?”
“Witness protection, new identity, relocation somewhere far from Moscow. You disappear and start over as someone else.”
“What about Dmitri?”
Pavel’s mouth twists into a smile, though there’s an edge of cruelty to it. “What about him? He goes to prison for the rest of his life, and you move on with yours.”
Hearing him discuss ruining Dmitri’s life makes something violent bloom in my chest. This man was my partner for three years. We’ve saved each other’s lives, covered for each other during dangerous operations, and trusted each other with secrets that could get us both killed.
Now he’s talking about the man I love like he’s just another criminal to be eliminated.
“And if I refuse to cooperate?”
“Then you’re a liability to be handled.” Pavel draws a suppressed pistol so smoothly I almost miss it. “The same way we handle all compromised assets who pose security risks.”
My blood turns to ice water, and my knees wobble. “You’re here to kill me.”
“Viktor’s orders were very specific: Eliminate the compromised agent and make it look like Kozlov’s doing. Two problems solved with one operation.”
“You son of a bitch,” I snap.
“Nothing personal, Katya. You were a good operative, but you forgot the first rule of deep cover work: Never get personally invested in the mission.”
Pavel raises the weapon, and time slows to a crawl.
My training kicks in automatically, and I start figuring out distances and angles in my head. He’s standing too close to miss, but far enough away that I can’t reach him before he fires.
Three years of partnership, and he’s going to execute me like any other target.
“Any last words for your lover?”
“Yeah. Tell him I’m sorry.”
Pavel’s finger tightens on the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse district like thunder, and I flinch, but I’m still standing.
Pavel’s eyes go wide. He staggers back, blood spreading as his gun clatters to the concrete. Behind him, Anya steps from the shadows, her pistol still smoking.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says as Pavel collapses to his knees. “Traffic was murder.”
“Anya?” I breathe out. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving your life.” Her gun stays on Pavel as she moves closer. “Your situational awareness has gone to shit since the memory loss.”
“How did you know?—”
“That Pavel was here to kill you instead of extract you? Because I’ve been investigating Viktor’s off-the-books operations for six months. Our dear handler has been eliminating agents who’ve become inconvenient.”
Pavel tries to reach for his dropped weapon, but Anya puts another round in his shoulder that makes him scream and roll away from the gun.
“Stay down, Romanov, or the next one goes in your head.”
“You fucking traitor,” Pavel gasps through gritted teeth. “Viktor will have you executed for this.”
“Viktor will have to catch me first. And considering he’s been selling FSB intelligence to the highest bidder, I don’t think he’s in a position to threaten anyone.”
I stare at my best friend, trying to work out what she’s telling me. “Viktor’s corrupt?”
“Viktor’s been running a side op with FSB resources. Nightfall wasn’t about destroying Dmitri; it was about clearing the way to take his territory.”
“That’s impossible.”
She cocks her head. “Think about your mission parameters. You were ordered to seduce Dmitri, not just gather intelligence. You were supposed to make him vulnerable, emotionally compromised, so Viktor could manipulate him through you.”
The pieces click into place. Viktor never wanted me to destroy Dmitri's organization; he wanted me to hand him the keys.
“When you started questioning those orders, when you refused to sleep with your target, Viktor realized you’d become a liability instead of an asset.”
“So, he ordered my elimination.”
“He ordered Pavel to set up the gallery bombing with the Borisenkos,” Anya says. “You were supposed to die there. Clean, no loose ends. Dmitri’s saving you forced Viktor to improvise.”
Pavel coughs up blood and glares at both of us. “You have no idea what you’re interfering with. Viktor’s operation is bigger than one criminal organization.”
“Big enough to commit treason?” Anya asks. “Because that’s what selling government intelligence to foreign buyers is called.”
“You can’t prove anything.”
“Actually, I can. I’ve been documenting Viktor’s activities for months. I’ve got enough evidence to bury him and everyone who helped him.”
Anya pulls out her phone and shows me a screen full of encrypted files. “Including evidence that Operation Nightfall was never authorized by FSB leadership. Viktor created the mission using forged documentation.”
“Jesus Christ. So, what happens now?” I ask.
“Now, you need to go back to Dmitri and try to build something real out of the wreckage. It’s the only shot you have.”
“That’s my only option?”
“It’s the only option that ends with you breathing. Viktor’s network has people everywhere. Staying in Moscow as Agent Sidorov means staying a target.”
I think about Dmitri’s face when I told him I hated him. The way his voice cracked when he admitted the revenge plan had become something else. The look in his eyes when I said I’d never forgive myself for falling for him.
Will he even want to help me?
“If I go back to him, what about my FSB career?”
“Your FSB career ended the moment Viktor decided you were expendable. This is your chance to become whoever you want to be, wherever you want to be. Clean identity, financial support, and freedom to reinvent yourself. But you’ve got to get away from here first. Viktor won’t stop looking for you.”
Pavel groans as he applies pressure to his chest wound. “You’re both making a mistake. The FSB doesn’t forget traitors.”
“The FSB doesn’t tolerate corruption either,” Anya replies. “And when the full scope of Viktor’s operation comes out, anyone associated with his network is going to be too busy covering their own asses to worry about hunting down dead agents.”
She turns back to me. “Dmitri’s the only one who can protect you now, Katya.”
I trace my crescent moon tattoo while I consider what she’s telling me. My only chance of survival is returning to the man who kidnapped me and made me fall in love with him.
“We should go.” Anya checks her watch. “The longer we stay here, the more likely someone will?—”
A metallic click echoes through the warehouse, drawing my attention back to Pavel. He’s dragged himself across the concrete to where a small pistol was hidden beneath a stack of shipping pallets. Blood streams down his face, but his gun hand stays steady as he raises the weapon.
“Nobody’s going anywhere.”