Chapter 11
The full moon was high in the night sky as Keisha’s sneakers slipped on polished marble. Her right hand grabbed air, left clutching the wall. Sergei caught her elbow. She pulled free once steady.
“Watch it,” Sergei whispered, voice low.
She nodded, biting back a snap. She didn’t need babysitting. Her jaw clenched, tremor twitching her hand. A few minutes before midnight. Nearly four hours since Tiana vanished from the foster home. Guilt knotted her gut. She should’ve reacted faster. Kept Tiana from walking into the line of danger.
“She here?” Keisha kept her voice low, scanning the corridor.
Sergei nodded, face tight. “Pavel’s cyber tracks are all over. Same system that hit your audits.”
His hand was steady even with a gun in it. He had his knife, too. Sergei moved, boots silent on marble, shoulders shifting under his t-shirt, pausing at doorways, checking threats.
For Tiana.
A red light blinked on the ceiling. Pavel’s surveillance. Keisha froze, but Sergei stayed in its blind spot, gesturing for her to follow his path. She stepped where he did, hating his expertise.
“Third door,” he mouthed.
Moonlight hit a camera’s barrel. Sergei ducked, movements trained. His enforcer past chilled her.
“Stop thinking about what I was,” he said, not looking back, reading her. “Focus on Tiana.”
Tiana was trapped because Keisha failed her. She pushed past Sergei, urgency beating caution. “Which room?”
His hand caught her arm, firm. “Trip sensors. Electronic locks. Pavel’s dirty.”
“Me too,” she said, twisting free but staying put, knowing the risk. A collapse now meant capture. Tiana lost.
Sergei’s jaw worked, pulling a device from his pocket, attaching it to a baseboard wire. It blinked green. “Thirty seconds,” he said, moving to the door.
Keisha followed, counting steps to stay calm. Oil paintings glared down. Proof of Dmitri’s laundered money. Her cheek stung as another tremor hit, mouth dry.
“Here.”
Sergei’s knife worked the door’s panel. Those hands—violent, saving—dizzied her.
“Keep watch,” he said.
Keisha scanned the hallway, ears straining hearing creaks, maybe footsteps. Her heartrate jumped.
“She in there?” she whispered.
Sergei focused on wires, knife glinting. The green light blinked faster. “Sergei—”
“Almost there.” The panel sparked, clicking.
Tiana was behind it. Had to be. Sergei’s eyes met hers. “Ready?”
No. Not for this, the danger, trusting a man she’d called enemy weeks ago. Her hand shook, reaching for the handle. Sergei’s fingers brushed hers, steadying. She eased back, his warmth lingering.
“Together,” he said.
Her throat caught, nodding. They turned the handle, stepping into darkness.
Darkness swallowed them, Keisha’s foot hitting a chair leg, triggering a whimper. Tiana. Sergei flicked a switch, a bulb glaring. Keisha’s stomach dropped.
Tiana sat tied to a chair, duct tape over her mouth, wrists roped. Torn socks showed raw ankles. Her eyes welled at Keisha, tears spilling.
“I’ve got you,” Keisha whispered, kneeling, peeling tape gently. “You’re safe. We’re getting you out.”
Tiana’s shoulders shook, gasping, “You came,” voice raspy.
Sergei stayed by the door, knife ready, eyes splitting between hallway and them. “Hurry. Five minutes, maybe less.”
Keisha’s trembling fingers fumbled Tiana’s ropes. Frustration burned. She pulled a hairpin, tremor making it dance.
“Easy,” Sergei said, calm. “Breathe.”
She wanted to snap but inhaled, held, released. The tremor eased, pin working the knot.
“They hurt you?” she asked Tiana, dreading the answer.
Tiana shook her head, braids swinging. “Just scared me. Said they’d hold me till you stopped digging.” Her voice cracked. “Said no one’d notice I was gone.”
The pin slipped as a tremor hit. Keisha swore, grabbing it.
“Who brought you here?” she asked, pin back in the knot.
“A man. Cold eyes. Called Dmitri.”
Tiana’s words made Sergei stiffen as he crouched, eyeing a smoldering cigarette butt.
“He’s been here,” he said. “Recently.”
Keisha’s heart raced. The first knot gave. She moved to the second, fingers cramping.
“You’re shaking,” Tiana whispered, fear shifting to concern.
“I’m okay,” Keisha lied.
“Someone’s coming,” Sergei hissed, stepping back. “Move.”
The second knot loosened, ropes falling, revealing raw skin. Anger flared. “Can you stand?” Keisha asked, helping Tiana up.
Tiana’s legs buckled, Keisha catching her. “I’ve got you,” she said, steady. “I’m not letting anything happen.”
Sergei gestured—service stairs to the kitchen, side door. Tiana limped, breathing uneven. “The woman who drugged me said they’d come for you next,” she told Keisha. “Your files.”
Her case files. Coastal’s scam, months of evidence. Could Pavel find her hidden safe in her apartment? Keisha grit her teeth.
Sergei stepped back. “We have a problem and they have guns,” he said, tight. “Not the stairs,” he said, checking window latches. “Sealed. Fuck. We need to break it.”
Tiana whimpered, pressing closer. “Don’t let them take me.”
“Never.” Keisha moved to the window, Sergei worked at the seal with his knife. Their eyes met.
The door crashed open. Vera stood, pistol aimed, boots wide. Her eyes found Tiana, Keisha, then Sergei.
“Lisowski,” she spat. “I Knew you’d crawl back.”
Keisha shielded Tiana, heart in her throat.
“Put it down, Vera,” Sergei said, calm, but his stance screamed tension.
Vera’s smile didn’t touch her eyes. “Dmitri wants the girl. And her.” The gun aimed at Keisha. “One bullet, two birds.”
“No chance,” Sergei said, stepping forward.
Vera’s finger tightened. “Don’t—”
Sergei moved fast, clamping her wrist, forcing the gun up. A shot cracked, plaster raining. Tiana screamed. Keisha pushed her to the corner. “Stay there,” she ordered, turning.
Sergei’s fist hit Vera’s jaw. She staggered, twisting free, elbowing his ribs. He took it, slamming her against the wall. The gun clattered. Keisha lunged, legs buckling, tremor ripping through. She grabbed the chair, metallic taste sharp. Not now.
Vera kicked Sergei’s knee. He grunted, pivoting, slamming her back. Blood dripped. She didn’t know who it belonged to.
“Keisha?” Tiana’s voice shook.
“Don’t look,” Keisha said, voice unsteady, reaching the gun. Vera spun, blood streaming, spotting Keisha. She froze.
“You won’t shoot,” Vera said, accent thick. “Not with the kid watching.”
The gun weighed heavy, Keisha’s first time holding one. She kept it aimed, tremors shaking it.
“Try me,” she said.
Sergei’s eyes met hers over Vera’s shoulder. He grabbed Vera, twisting her arm. They crashed, glass shattering. Vera kicked his shin, but he spun her face-first into the wall, plaster cracking, blood splattering.
“Enough,” Sergei growled, arm locked. “It’s over.”
Vera stilled, gasping. “Dmitri’ll kill you all.”
“Not tonight,” Sergei said, eyes on Keisha. His question clear.
What now?
The gun grew heavier as Tiana’s fear and Dmitri’s crimes filled her mind.
“Tie her up,” Keisha said, lowering the gun. “We take Tiana and go.”
Vera’s eyes narrowed. “Big mistake social worker. He’ll find you.”
“Shut up.” Sergei grabbed Tiana’s rope, binding Vera’s wrists, shoving her into the chair. She spat blood.
“This isn’t over, Lisowski,” Vera said.
“It is tonight.” Sergei retrieved his knife. “The enforcer you knew would’ve cut your throat no questions asked.”
“No.” Keisha’s voice cut sharp. “We’re not like them. We don’t kill people in cold blood.”
Sergei’s eyes softened.
Vera laughed. “You don’t know what he’s done.”
“I know enough.” Keisha faced Sergei. “We still going out the window?”
He moved to it, Vera straining against his hold. “You can’t escape. Pavel’s system—”
“Is going to be disabled,” Sergei said. “We leave in four minutes.” He smashed the window, glass shattering, air rushing in.
Vera slumped, resigned, fear of Dmitri in her eyes.
“You should run,” she said, quiet. “Far as you can.”
Sergei cleared glass. “You first,” he told Tiana, then Keisha.
Before they could move, Dmitri appeared, cigarette case snapping.
“Lisowski,” he said, ignoring Vera, eyes on Sergei, Keisha, Tiana. “And Ms. Crawford. With our guest.”
Tiana clung to Keisha, fingers digging. Dmitri lit a cigarette.
“Let us leave,” Keisha said, voice steady despite tremors. “This is over.”
“Nothing’s done till I say,” Dmitri said, accent thick. “The girl stays. You stay. Lisowski dies.”
“No.” Keisha squeezed Tiana’s hand. “That’s not happening.”
Dmitri smiled, smoke curling. “You dig into my adoptions, steal my property.” He gestured at Tiana. “There are consequences for these insults, Ms. Crawford.”
Sergei stepped between them. “She leaves with the girl. Your fight is with me.”
“It’s with anyone who crosses me.” Dmitri corrected. “They have both seen too much. You are a pest I should have eliminated years ago.”
Keisha backed toward the window, pulling Tiana with her. They were too high up not to be careful in their descent, but they might not have a choice. Dmitri pulled out his phone. “Pavel is downstairs. I make one call and all the exits are sealed.”
Keisha’s tremor spiked, metallic taste flooding. She grabbed a glass shard, smashing the security panel. Sparks flew, alarms blaring.
Dmitri’s calm cracked. “What’d you do?”
“Called for backup,” Keisha shot back.
Sergei smiled coldly. “FBI and the CIA are coming. They might have received an anonymous tip regarding human trafficking here.”
Dmitri’s cigarette fell, burning carpet. “You’re bluffing.”
“You know I don’t bullshit,” Sergei said. “They’ll find Pavel’s servers, your files, every kid you trafficked. If I were you, I’d get started on destroying the evidence instead of wasting time with us.”
Dmitri’s eyes darted as he backed off. “This ain’t over.” He fled, footsteps fading.
Vera strained, panicked. “Untie me, Lisowski. I’ll disappear. You will never see me again.”
Sergei ignored her. “Go. Now,” he told Keisha and Tiana.
“You’re hurt,” Keisha said, reaching for him when she spotted the blood on his shirt.
“It’s nothing.” He replied as he glanced down.
Tiana gasped. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’ve had worse.” Sergei nodded to the window. “There’s a tree right outside the window. Once you make the jump, you should be able to climb down low enough to land on the on the ground without injury.”
“Why does it sound like you’re staying?” she asked.
“Because I am,” he admitted.
“They’ll arrest you,” Keisha protested. “Your record—”
“It’s better my way.” He steadied as Keisha tore her shirt, pressing fabric to his wound, fingers slipping in blood. “Why?” she asked, voice cracking. “Your status—”
“Tiana matters more.” His eyes locked hers. “Your work does.”
Her chest cracked open a little more. Weeks fighting his protection, now his blood for Tiana. Sergei’s hand covered hers, pressing. “I find you as soon as it’s safe,” he said. “Now move. Nadia and Mateo are waiting for you.”
Sirens wailed, closer. Tiana looked at them. “We can’t leave him,” she said, voice firm despite her fear.
“We’re not.” Keisha tied the bandage, basic first-ain training kicking in. “But he’s right. We need to go.”
Sergei groaned, her knot tight. Sirens screamed. Vera swore in Russian, struggling. “Tiana first,” Sergei said. “Then you, Keisha.”
Keisha helped Tiana to the sill, steadying her. “Jump straight,” she said. “I’m right behind.”
Tiana nodded, breathing deep, and jumped. There was a loud thump, then her shaky voice. “I’m okay!”
Keisha turned to Sergei.
“Why?” she asked again.
“You know why.”
Trust burned raw, earned in blood. Sergei bled for Tiana, for her. Sirens closed in. Keisha gripped the sill before releasing it to jump.