25. Sofiya #2
Two guards meet us near the staff entrance. Niko gives them a look before either can speak. “She goes with me. You didn’t see the car, you didn’t hear the route, and if Anton calls, you tell him we are handling it.”
One of the men looks at me. “He’ll ask what handling means.”
I lift my chin. “Tell him I’m being unbearable.”
That earns me the smallest twitch of a smile before the man steps aside.
The service lift takes us down too slowly. I stand beside Niko with my coat buttoned over Anton’s shirt, the scarf at my throat, and the gun pressing into my back. My stomach rolls once, either nerves or pregnancy or both. I set one hand over it.
“Not now,” I whisper.
Niko glances down, then away fast enough to pretend he didn’t hear.
Good. I don’t need softness right now. I need movement.
In the garage, a grey sedan waits with its lights off and the driver already behind the wheel. I get into the back before Niko opens the door for me because I don’t have time for manners. He slides in beside me and gives the driver one clipped order.
The car pulls out.
The city moves past in hard pieces. Gates, concrete, late traffic, wet road, men smoking outside side doors, delivery trucks backing into lanes they shouldn’t use this late.
I keep my phone in one hand and the folded Khimki schedule in the other.
Maks wanted me at the east service gate near the repair shed.
That means he either controls the gate or wants me seen entering there.
Neither is good.
“Call Kolya,” I tell Niko.
He does, puts it on speaker, and holds the phone between us.
Kolya answers with a curse. “Tell me she’s still upstairs.”
“She is not,” Niko says.
Kolya goes silent for one ugly second. Then he says, “Anton is going to peel paint off the walls with my name.”
“Is he moving?” I ask.
“Sofiya, he is trying to get up and come after you while bleeding through a pressure wrap. So yes, emotionally, he’s moving. Physically, I’d prefer he didn’t.”
My chest tightens, but I force myself to stay on the road ahead. “Can you get the boxes out?”
“We’ve got two loaded. Third is still near the dock. The man in the coat is alive and scared enough to be useful if we keep him that way.”
“Good. Maks wants me at the east service gate. That means his attention shifts there. Use that.”
Kolya makes a rough sound. “You’re using yourself as a distraction.”
“I’m using his fear as a distraction. My body is just the delivery method.”
Niko looks at me like he regrets every career choice that led to this back seat.
Kolya says, “Anton heard that and is making a face I don’t enjoy.”
My heart jumps. “He’s there?”
Kolya lowers his voice, though not enough. “He’s listening because he’s impossible.”
Anton’s voice cuts in, rough and furious. “Turn the car around.”
I close my eyes. Just for a second. Then I open them because the driver is taking a left, and I need to know where we are. “No.”
“Sofiya.”
“That tone worked better before I knew you were in love with me.”
Niko goes very still beside me. Kolya makes a strangled sound that may be pain or laughter. Anton says nothing for half a breath, and I can feel his fury through the phone like heat from a stove.
Then he says, “You’re enjoying this.”
“No. I’m terrified.” I watch the road narrow as we leave cleaner traffic behind. “I’m also right.”
“I don’t care if you’re right.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I care that you’re carrying my child and driving toward a man who wants to gut both our houses to climb another inch.”
“I’m not arriving unsupported.”
“You said Maks wants you alone.”
“He wants to think I am.”
A short silence follows. Then Anton says, “Niko.”
Niko straightens. “Here.”
“If she gets scratched, don’t come back.”
“She has a gun,” Niko says.
Anton’s voice drops into something almost lethal. “Why does she have a gun?”
I answer before Niko can dig his own grave. “Because you keep them in obvious places.”
Kolya coughs. “I’m going to remember this conversation forever.”
“Focus,” I say, though my mouth almost curves despite the fear trying to eat through my ribs.
“Anton, listen to me. Maks believes the package exists, but he won’t believe it forever.
He’ll test me fast. I need him looking at me long enough for you to move the records and the coat man. If the third box is risky, leave it.”
“No.”
“Anton.”
“No. You nearly got yourself killed making this play. I’m not leaving the proof behind.”
“That proof only matters if you’re alive to use it.”
He says nothing. That one hit.
Kolya comes back on. “We can move two boxes and the coat man now. Third box in four minutes if our side car gets the angle.”
“You have three,” I say. “After that, Maks starts wondering why I’m late or why he can’t see me yet.”
“We’re on it.”
The call cuts.
I sit back and let the phone rest against my thigh. My hands finally begin to shake, small and irritatingly, and I curl them into fists under the folded schedule.
By the time the Khimki storage strip appears ahead, the whole night has narrowed to fences, repair sheds, yard lamps, and the ugly shape of the gate Maks chose. The driver slows two blocks out.
Niko turns to me. “Last chance to stay in the car.”
I look past him at the east service gate. One man stands near the repair shed, hands in his coat pockets, head turned slightly as if he’s been waiting for me. Another shape moves behind the fence.
Maks isn’t visible.
The car rolls to a stop beside a dead loading office, far enough from the gate to make me walk and close enough that Maks’s men will see me coming.
Pavel gets out first, scans, then opens my door.
I step into the cold with Anton’s coat around me, my father’s lie in my mouth, and a real drive hidden in my scarf.
For one second, I press my hand to my stomach. “We’ve got this,” I whisper. Then, I look at Niko. “Give me another minute. I need to make one last phone call.”