37. Ruslan
37
RUSLAN
ONE WEEK LATER
Cameras flash like gunfire as Aurora walks the red carpet.
Her gown—a deep emerald that catches every light—flows around her as if she's moving underwater.
She smiles. She waves. She thanks everyone for coming.
You wouldn't know she was terrified unless you'd spent months studying every tiny expression of her face like I have.
I stand beside her, one hand at the small of her back, but this is her moment. The air feels electric with anticipation, and my skin prickles with awareness. Every suited man, every shadow in the periphery gets catalogued and assessed.
"Mrs. Dragunov, how does it feel to finally show the world what Kristofer Christensen did?" a reporter shouts.
Aurora's smile doesn't falter, but I feel her muscles tighten beneath my palm. "It's about justice. Not just for my family, but for everyone who's ever lived in fear from a stalker."
Her voice never wavers. She doesn't break.
"Mr. Dragunov, as a producer, how difficult was it to film your wife reliving her trauma?"
"Less difficult than watching her live with it," I answer, keeping my tone measured while scanning the crowd.
We move down the line, greeting each guest personally. Several pakhan wives embrace Aurora with tears in their eyes. Even Eleonora Voronin whispers something that makes Aurora's smile genuinely for the first time tonight.
When we reach a momentary lull, I guide her to a quiet alcove off the main entrance.
"Breathe," I whisper, cupping her face between my hands. "You're doing great."
Her eyes meet mine, pupils dilated with adrenaline. "There are so many cameras." She presses a protective hand over her growing belly. "It's overwhelming."
"I know." I stroke my thumb across her cheek. "But you're doing it. You're standing in the light where he can see you, and you're showing him you're not afraid."
"Truthfully speaking, I'm fucking terrified," she admits with a breathless laugh.
"Which makes you even braver." I press my forehead against hers. "I'm proud of you."
Aurora swallows hard. "Have we heard anything? About Semyon?"
"Nothing yet." I keep my voice low though we're alone. "But my sources confirm the Triads are mobilizing somewhere. They won't miss an opportunity this public."
She nods, that familiar determination hardening her features. "Then we'll be ready when they come."
"We will." I kiss her gently and reverently before guiding her back toward the lights, where our past and future collide.
Just then, a sleek black Lexus stops at the curb and its back door swings open.
A heavily tattooed man steps out slowly. His movement is deliberate and slow. Dragon tattoos writhe across his neck, disappearing beneath his impeccably tailored suit. His hair is slicked back, and there is a wicked scar across his face just below his left eye.
He extends both hands away from his body when he sees me, opening his palms to show that he has no weapons.
A gesture that he's here to talk, not to kill.
Not yet at least.
"Who is that?" Aurora whispers, pressing closer to my side.
"Haidan Sun," I answer quietly, keeping my gaze locked on him. "A Marshal of the Triads."
"Marshal?"
"The right-hand man to a Dragon Lord." I shift slightly, angling myself between Aurora and Sun. "If he's here in person, then his Dragon Lord must have something important to say to me."
Haidan approaches with measured steps.
"Dragunov," he says with a slight nod when he stands in front of me. "Impressive turnout."
"What brings you here, Haidan?" I keep my voice level, courteous but cold. "I don't recall asking for an audience."
Sun's eyes flick to Aurora, and something dangerously close to appreciation crosses his face.
"Then why have the Vori been killing so many of our men this past week?"
"Haven't you noticed, Haidan?" I ask darkly. "We're at war. And I believe it was your Dragon Lord who struck first when he sent his men to kill me at my home."
Haidan cocks his head. "My Dragon Lord has recognized that decision may have been a mistake."
I don't blink.
"A mistake?" I repeat, letting the word hang between us.
"Whatever war you think you're fighting, Dragunov. It's ultimately one among you Russians." He straightens his cuffs, a nervous tic that betrays his carefully maintained composure. "An internal affair that doesn't concern the Triads."
"Doesn't concern you?" I laugh darkly. "You've stood by Semyon's side this whole fucking time. And now that I'm dropping bodies, you tell me this doesn't concern you?"
Haidan doesn't disagree. "An agreement was made with Semyon Mikonov. And my Dragon Lord was obligated to follow through with his commitments."
I notice how he uses past tense. "Was?"
"The agreement came to an end when Semyon sanctioned the brutal murder of his own niece in my Dragon Lord's house." His face darkens with genuine disgust. "By a man the Triads have no interest in working with."
Haidan's lip thins when I don't respond.
"We are businessmen," he says. "Not psychopaths. We don't torture women to send messages. And we don't allow outsiders to use our territory for personal vendettas. For those reasons, my Dragon Lord has abrogated his agreement with Semyon. This is your one and only warning to call off your attacks against us. If you do not, then we will fight this to the bitter end."
Aurora's hand slips into mine, squeezing tightly.
"Is there any proof or assurance you can provide?" I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the tension coiling through my body. "Words from a Triad Marshal don't hold much weight after what's happened."
Haidan's expression shifts, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes.
"Semyon and his American associate are planning an attack tonight." He lowers his voice. "They've planted bombs throughout the theater."
Aurora's grip on my hand tightens painfully. I don't react, keeping my gaze locked on Haidan.
"As a show of good faith, I have the codes to defuse them before they go off." He pulls a small device from his pocket. "Consider it a peace offering."
"How long before they detonate?" I demand, already calculating how many men I need to sweep the building.
"One hour."
My jaw clenches. "And how do I know this isn't a trap to pull away my men? Leave us vulnerable?"
Haidan shrugs, a strangely human gesture for a man with so much blood on his hands. "You don't know. You have to take a leap of faith, Dragunov."
Aurora squeezes my hand again, and Haidan notices the gesture. His eyes flick between us, lingering momentarily on Aurora's pregnant belly.
"Listen to your wife," he says softly. "Put out a temporary ceasefire order for the next seven days. If you do so, I'll hand over the codes."
I feel Aurora's presence beside me like a physical force—steady, unwavering. For a moment, it's just the three of us in a bubble of tense silence while the crowd behind us continues to mill about, oblivious to the deadly negotiation happening in plain sight.
"Seven days," I repeat, calculating rapidly. "And you expect me to believe the Triads will honor this?"
"My Dragon Lord is a man of his word. Which is more than what I can say for Semyon Mikonov." Haidan extends his hand, the device nestled in his palm. "Make your choice, pakhan of pakhans."
I stare at Haidan's outstretched hand.
My mind races through the possibilities. If he's lying, I'm showing weakness to an enemy who's already tried to kill me once.
But if he's telling the truth…
I look at Aurora, and see the question in her eyes. Not fear at what is inside, not panic at the risks we're facing, but a silent question asking me what kind of man I want to be.
The kind who risks innocent lives on pride, or the kind who is willing to swallow his pride to do what's necessary for the greater good?
And I have my answer.
I pull out my phone and call Korsakov.
"Pavel Yanovich, I'm speaking with Haidan Sun from the Triads. He's come to negotiate."
"What?" Korsakov's voice explodes through the speaker. "Tell him to go fuck?—"
"I need you to spread word to our boys. Seven-day ceasefire, effective immediately while we negotiate with the Triads."
"Have you lost your mind?" Korsakov hisses. "We have the Triads on the ropes. This isn't the time to?—"
"This is exactly the time to negotiate. Don't forget why we're fighting." I cut in sharply. "To force them to come to the table. And they have."
A long pause, then a frustrated grunt. "Fine. I'll make the calls."
"Good." I end the call and turn back to Haidan. "It's done."
He nods and places the device in my hand. As my fingers close around it, he leans closer.
"Semyon has made contingencies in case we turned against him," he says quietly. "Part of that contingency is an assault on the theater itself."
My blood freezes. "When?"
"The assault is scheduled to begin right when the bombs would detonate."
I curl my fingers around the device, already calculating how much time we have left. "Why tell me this?"
"A show of good faith." Haidan smiles. "The first part of what I believe will be a very long negotiations process."
I watch Haidan's back as he retreats toward his Lexus, my fingers clenched around the device he's given me. A trap or salvation—I won't know until it's tested.
"Ruslan." Aurora tugs at my arm, her voice urgent but controlled. "We don't have much time."
She's right.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Artyom.
"We have a situation," I say the moment he answers. "I need every available man back at the theater. Now."
"What?" Artyom's voice crackles through the speaker. "That'll pull away manpower from watching the routes. If Semyon attacks?—"
"Listen to me, Artyom!" I interrupt him. "Haidan Sun just came to tell me himself that Semyon and Kristofer planted bombs in the theater. If those go off, it's going to be a bloodbath."
There's silence on the other end for a heartbeat. "Are you sure?"
"Only one way to find out. I need you here as quickly as you can."
Aurora presses closer to my side, her hand protectively curved over our children growing inside her. The weight of what we stand to lose crushes against my chest.
"Call in a bomb threat," I continue. "Get everyone out. We'll handle the rest."
"Ruslan, this could be a trap. The Triads could be?—"
" Eto moi prikaz! "
The words slip out of me before I can stop myself. There's a beat of silence before Artyom sighs.
"I'll be over in twenty. I hope you're right."
I end the call and turn to Aurora, cupping her face in my hands. Her eyes—those beautiful hazel eyes that have seen too much horror—stare back at me with unwavering resolve.
"We need to leave once the announcement is made," I tell her. "If Semyon is planning an assault, we can't be caught in the open."
She nods, no argument leaving her lips.
We stand there, breaths mingling, while unseen chaos slowly takes shape all around us.
Then, like a wave breaking, every phone in the vicinity buzzes simultaneously.
I glance down at mine:
EMERGENCY ALERT: BOMB THREAT AT GRAUMAN CHINESE THEATER. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
There is a momentary lull of silence, as if everyone is sort of absorbing the news.
Then, chaos erupts.
The crowd transforms from a glamorous red carpet gathering to a panicked stampede in seconds. Women kick off high heels, men shove past one another, all semblance of Hollywood etiquette abandoned in the primal need to escape.
"Stay close to me," I order Aurora, wrapping my arm around her shoulders as we push against the tide.
People are running in every direction, screaming into phones, trampling over dropped purses and jackets. I keep Aurora shielded against me, one hand pressed protectively over her stomach where our children rest. Every protective instinct in my body is screaming.
That's when something catches my eye.
A silver sedan speeding toward the theater. It's moving too fast.
The headlights blind me momentarily, and years of instinct ignite before rational thought can catch up.
"Aurora!" I yank her behind a concrete pillar just as the sedan crashes through the barricades where we stood seconds ago.
Metal crunches and glass shatters. The car door flies open.
Semyon steps out first, followed by four of his men. Even from this distance, I can see the murderous rage distorting his features.
"Run!" I shout at Aurora. "I'll cover you!"
I draw my gun from beneath my jacket as Semyon spots us and raises his weapon.
"Go!" I shout, squeezing off two shots that force Semyon behind his wrecked vehicle.
Gunfire erupts around us, bullets pinging off concrete as I return fire, keeping myself between Aurora and the spray of bullets.
"Ruslan!" she screams.
"Go! Now!"