Chapter 27
Kira
Iwake to the sound of low voices filtering through the thin walls. My neck aches from falling asleep on the couch. The bedroom is dark. Maksim must have carried me in here. I can still feel the ghost of his arms around me.
I push myself upright, fighting a wave of nausea. The morning sickness has started hitting at random times now, not just mornings. I breathe through it, waiting for my stomach to settle.
The voices in the living area are hushed but urgent. I catch Maksim's tone and feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Something's wrong.
I pad to the door and ease it open.
Maksim and Semyon stand by the kitchen table; heads bent over something. Anya sits on the couch, her face blotchy and red. She's been crying.
My heart lurches. "What happened?"
All three heads snap toward me. Maksim's expression shifts immediately—from hard strategist to concerned protector in a heartbeat.
"You should be resting," he says, moving toward me.
"Anya's been crying." I sidestep him, crossing to my sister. "What's going on?"
She looks at Maksim, uncertain. He nods once, jaw tight.
"Roman has our father," she whispers. “He sent pictures. It’s so bad.”
The words take a moment to register. Our father. The man who sold Maksim out for money. The man who set this entire nightmare in motion.
"Show me," I demand.
Maksim hesitates. "Kira—"
"Show. Me."
He exchanges a look with Semyon, then pulls out his phone. The screen shows a photo that makes my breath catch.
My father tied to a chair. His face is a mess of bruises and blood. One eye is swollen completely shut. His shirt is dark with what I know is blood.
“Next,” I order.
Because I know there is another one. I know this game. I’ve led this game.
Maksim sighs and slides the screen to show me the latest photo.
I stare at the image, emotions warring inside me. I thought I hated this man. Thought I'd moved past caring what happened to him. He betrayed Maksim. Destroyed our lives. Got paid to do it.
But seeing him like this—broken and bleeding—hurts in a way I didn't expect. The second picture is horrific. I can’t even say for certain he’s alive. His one eye is open, but he’s staring at nothing.
"When?" My voice comes out steady despite the turmoil inside.
"About two hours ago," Semyon answers. "They sent it to draw us out."
"It's a trap," I say, still staring at the photo.
"Obviously." Maksim takes the phone back, like he can't stand me looking at it anymore. "But we can't just leave him there."
I look up at him. "Can't we?"
The question hangs in the air. Everyone stares at me.
"He sold you out," I continue, my voice harder now. "Took money from Roman. Set you up to be kidnapped and tortured. Why should we risk ourselves to save him?"
"Because he's your father," Maksim says quietly. "And our child's grandfather."
"Our child's grandfather is a traitor who values money over lives."
"I know." He moves closer, his hand finding mine. "But you'll never forgive yourself if we don't at least try. And neither will I."
I want to argue. Want to say I don't care. But he's right—damn him, he's right.
I close my eyes, breathing through the nausea that has nothing to do with pregnancy. "What's happening? What's the plan?"
"We're going to get him," Semyon says. "Maksim and I are headed out now to scout the location. Then we'll extract him."
"I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not." Maksim's response is immediate and firm.
"I can handle a gun. I can help—"
"Kira, you're pregnant." He frames my face with his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You're carrying our child. There is no scenario where I let you walk into a trap."
"He's right," Anya says softly. "Kira, it's too dangerous."
"It's too dangerous for all of us!" I pull away from Maksim, frustration boiling over. "You think I can just sit here while you two go get yourselves killed?"
"We're not going to get killed," Semyon interjects. "We're professionals. We know what we're doing."
"So do I!" My voice rises. "I ran an organization for six years. I've handled worse situations than this."
"Not while pregnant," Maksim says flatly. "Not with my child. I won't risk you. End of discussion."
I want to scream at him. Want to throw something. But I see the fear beneath his stubborn determination. He's terrified of losing me. Of losing the baby.
"We're moving," Semyon says, breaking the tense silence. "This location isn't safe anymore. Roman sent that photo to Maksim's phone—even a burner can be traced given enough time. We need to relocate."
"Where?" Anya asks.
"I've got another place. Deeper in the city. Harder to find." He's already gathering weapons, packing them into bags. "We move now, before they find us."
"I want to be close," I say, an idea forming. "Not at the safehouse. Close to where you're going. Close enough to help if something goes wrong."
"Kira—" Maksim starts.
"I'm skilled," I cut him off. "You know I am. I won't go in. I'll stay back. But you might need cover. You might need backup. And I can provide that better than sitting in some apartment across the city wondering if you're dead."
The men exchange looks. I can see them weighing options, calculating risks.
"She has a point," Semyon says finally. "We could use all the help we can get. And she's right—she's skilled enough to provide cover fire if needed."
"She's pregnant," Maksim repeats.
"I'm also standing right here." I cross my arms. "And I'm going. The only question is whether I go with your blessing or without it."
His jaw clenches. I can see the war playing out behind his eyes—protectiveness versus pragmatism.
"You stay in the car," he says finally. "Far enough away to be safe. You don't engage unless absolutely necessary. And if things go wrong, you drive away. You don't try to save us. You get yourself and Anya to safety. Understood?"
"Maksim—"
"Those are my terms." His voice is steel. "Take them or stay behind."
I want to argue. But I know this is the best compromise I'll get.
"Fine," I say. "Anya and I wait in the getaway car. Far enough to be safe. But close enough to help if needed."
"I didn't agree to this," Anya protests. "Kira, I don't want to—"
"You'll be safer with us than alone," Semyon tells her. "And we need someone to drive if things go sideways. Can you do that?"
She looks terrified, but she nods. "If Kira's going, I'm going."
Maksim runs a hand through his hair, clearly hating this plan. But he doesn't have a better option.
"Get dressed," he says. "Warm clothes. Dark colors. We leave in ten minutes."
I move back to the bedroom, Anya following. We change quickly—black jeans, dark sweaters, boots. I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look pale, scared.
Good. I should be scared. We're walking into a trap to save a man who doesn't deserve saving.
But Maksim's right. I'll never forgive myself if we don't try.
In the living area, the men have packed everything. Weapons. Ammunition. Medical supplies. For some reason, seeing that massive first aid kit makes it all the more real. It’s been less than two weeks since I almost lost Maksim.
What if the third time is the charm?
"Ready?" Maksim asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He crosses to me, pulling me into his arms. The embrace is tight, desperate.
"If anything happens—" he starts.
"Nothing's going to happen," I interrupt. "We're going to get my father, and we're all going to survive. Understand?"
He doesn't answer. Just kisses me once.
When he pulls back, his eyes are haunted. "I love you."
"I love you too." I touch his face. "So don't get killed."
"Wasn't planning on it."
Semyon opens the door, checking the hallway. "Clear. Let's move."
We file out into the night. The air is cold, biting through my sweater. Two cars wait in the alley.
"You'll take that one," Semyon says, pointing to the second car. "Keys are in the ignition. Follow us but stay back. When we stop, you park a block away. Eyes on the building but far enough to run if needed."
Anya and I climb into the designated car. It smells like cigarettes which almost makes me puke.
Maksim appears at my window. I roll it down. "Be careful," he says. "Please."
"You, too."
He leans in, kissing me one more time. Then he's gone, jogging back to the other car.
I follow, keeping a careful distance. The streets are empty at this hour—just past one in the morning.
We drive for twenty minutes, winding through industrial districts and rough neighborhoods. Finally, the lead car's brake lights flash.
I slow, watching as Maksim and Semyon park near a warehouse. I continue past, finding a side street a block away like instructed.
From here, I can see the building. Dim lights in a few windows. Two men standing guard outside.
"What now?" Anya whispers.
"Now we wait," I say, checking the gun in my lap. "And pray this doesn't go to hell."
Through the windshield, I watch Maksim and Semyon approach the warehouse. They move like shadows, weapons ready.
I send up a silent prayer that the father of my baby survives. And dammit, I actually hope he can save my own father.