Chapter 6 Konstantin #2
We end up with a cup for each of us—Mila’s piled high with rainbow sprinkles and chocolate, Nadya’s careful with just a drizzle of caramel, mine heavy with coffee ice cream, the only flavor that tastes like memory.
We sit outside at a sun-warmed table, Mila’s legs swinging, her voice growing louder as the sugar takes hold and her nerves fade.
She tells us about a dream she had where her stuffed rabbit grew wings and carried her all the way to the beach, about a class pet she hopes is still waiting for her at school, about how maybe—just maybe—Nikolai will like ice cream as much as she does when he comes home.
Mila is finishing the last spoonful of her ice cream when something catches my attention.
A black SUV moves slowly along the street, its windows tinted, rolling just slow enough to put me on edge.
Nadya sees it too, her eyes narrowing slightly as she casually gathers up the napkins scattered on the table.
“Mila,” Nadya says, calm but firm. “Get under the table and don’t move until I say.”
Mila looks at her mother with wide eyes but obeys without a word, slipping down quickly to curl between the metal chairs. Nadya shifts smoothly in front of her, shielding our daughter from view.
The SUV stops half a block away. The doors open simultaneously, and two men step out, their movements precise and deliberate. One adjusts something beneath his jacket. A gun, no doubt. A third man remains behind the wheel, engine idling.
I keep my posture relaxed, but my hand ready. Nadya watches me carefully, waiting for my signal.
As the two men approach, their pace careful but swift, I rise slowly to meet them. My gaze locks onto theirs, tracking every twitch, every subtle shift of their hands toward their jackets. The taller one moves slightly ahead of his partner, confident, his hand reaching inside his coat.
I step forward quickly, seizing his wrist just as he grips the handle of the pistol.
With a sharp twist, I wrench his arm upward, forcing him off-balance.
He grimaces, stumbling slightly, trying to regain his footing as he swings at me with his free hand.
I dodge, shifting my weight to deliver a heavy blow to his ribs, feeling him buckle as the breath leaves him in a painful gasp.
Behind me, Nadya engages the second attacker without hesitation, fluidly sidestepping his initial grab.
He lunges again, attempting to close his arms around her, but Nadya is faster, driving the heel of her palm directly into his throat.
He coughs violently, choking on his next breath, his stance faltering for a critical moment.
Nadya doesn’t hesitate; she kicks precisely at the side of his knee, forcing him down hard onto the pavement.
A sudden shout draws my attention back to my attacker.
He charges again, this time brandishing a knife, his movements desperate and reckless.
I move in close, deflecting his arm downward, gripping his wrist tightly.
He swings wildly, but I’m already anticipating the movement.
With practiced ease, I twist his arm behind his back, the knife clattering onto the sidewalk as I press him roughly to the ground.
He struggles briefly beneath my hold before going limp, accepting defeat.
I press my knee into his back, pinning him firmly against the rough pavement.
“Who sent you?” I demand, keeping my voice low and steady. “Tell me. Now.”
He grunts in pain, cheek pressed to the ground, eyes darting frantically as he searches for escape. “I don’t know—I swear,” he manages to choke out, breathing labored. “Just following orders.”
I lean in harder, applying more pressure, my tone ice-cold. “Whose orders?”
He hesitates, eyes flickering briefly toward his partner, still incapacitated by Nadya. I twist his arm tighter, hearing a muffled gasp of pain beneath me. “Last chance,” I warn. “Give me a name. Whose orders?”
Panic flashes clearly across his face. “Someone powerful—someone who wants your family hurt,” he says, voice shaking. “That’s all I know.”
Before I can question him further, the SUV engine roars to life down the street, tires screeching as it accelerates toward us, forcing me to react immediately and abandon my hold.
I release my grip, rolling swiftly aside as the SUV barrels down the street, aiming straight for us. Gravel and dust kick up in its wake. Nadya reacts instantly, pulling Mila from beneath the table and shielding her body behind a parked car.
The SUV screeches to a stop beside us, doors swinging open. Before I can react, the driver leans out, weapon drawn, covering the street as the injured men stagger to their feet and quickly climb inside. The doors slam shut again, and the vehicle speeds away down the street, vanishing into traffic.
Around us, silence settles back in slowly.
Pedestrians linger, frozen in shock, eyes wide as whispers ripple through the crowd.
Nadya holds Mila close against her chest, shielding her face from the chaos around us.
I stand, fists clenched at my sides, breathing through the rush of adrenaline still surging through me.
Nadya turns toward me, eyes dark and troubled. “Who do you think sent them?”
I shake my head slowly, eyes still fixed on the empty street. “I don’t know. But one of them had a tattoo on his arm. Something distinctive—I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”
“What did it look like?”
“A serpent wrapped around a dagger,” I say quietly. “Nothing from our circle. Whoever these people are, they’re new—or they’re from outside the city.”
I scan the street one last time, making sure the SUV is gone for good, then look at Nadya. “We need to get off the road,” I say, voice quiet but certain. “If anyone’s still watching, I’d rather lose them before we head home.”
She nods in agreement, tucking Mila’s hair behind her ear. “Let’s go somewhere crowded. Somewhere we can disappear.”
Mila is still shaken but follows as I guide them quickly down the sidewalk, keeping one eye on the street, the other on the shifting faces around us.
A few blocks away, we slip through the doors of a busy mall, letting the noise and foot traffic swallow us up.
Nadya keeps a protective arm around Mila, steering her gently toward a bench near the escalators, half-hidden by a planter overflowing with green leaves.
I pause, watching the entrance for a few long moments, studying every unfamiliar face.
Nadya sits with Mila in her lap, rocking her gently and murmuring soft reassurances.
The air inside is bright and cool, the murmur of voices and distant music a welcome cover for the tension running through my body.
“We’ll stay here for a while,” I say, lowering my voice as I sit beside them. “If anyone’s following, they’ll lose us in the crowd.”
Nadya nods, her fingers tracing soothing circles on Mila’s back. “Do you think we’re safe now?”
“For the moment,” I answer.
I settle beside Nadya on the bench, the polished tile floor and background hum of the mall both oddly soothing and unfamiliar.
Mila dozes, her small body pressed into Nadya’s side, her thumb curled tight around her rabbit’s ear.
I watch the flow of strangers moving between shop windows, people who have no idea what just happened outside.
Nadya glances at a group of teenagers spilling out of a game store, bags swinging from their wrists, laughter bouncing off the glass storefronts. She smiles faintly, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t remember the last time I was in a mall,” she says. “Feels like another life.”
I shrug, watching the crowd with a little envy. “It’s been years for me too. Maybe longer. I’d forgotten how easy it is to disappear in a place like this.”
She leans into me, just enough for our shoulders to touch, and for a moment the rest of the world slips away.
I reach up, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger a second longer than necessary.
Nadya closes her eyes, breathing in, and for a heartbeat, things almost feel normal—like we could be any family taking refuge from the summer heat, our biggest worry just a forgotten shoe or a dropped cone.
That moment vanishes in an instant as a bright, familiar voice cuts through the noise beside us. “Konstantin?”
I look up, caught off guard. Anya stands just a few feet away, dressed in a crisp sundress, a Zara bag looped casually over her arm. She gives me a sly grin, eyes flicking briefly to Nadya and Mila before landing on me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, tilting her head with a kind of practiced innocence.
I arch a brow, matching her tone. “This doesn’t seem like your usual scene either.”
Anya laughs, lifting her bag as if that explains everything. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for Zara’s summer collection.”
Nadya sits up a little straighter, eyeing the two of us. “How do you know each other?” There’s a note of suspicion in her voice, subtle but sharp enough that I know I can’t afford to get this wrong.
Before I can answer, Anya jumps in, flashing her best easy smile. “Oh, we met at the children’s hospital last month. I volunteer on weekends, run little art workshops. Konstantin was there handling some paperwork for Mila, I think. Isn’t that right?”
I nod, keeping my expression mild, grateful for the lie and the ease with which she offers it. The last thing I want is to explain why I was at Viktor’s casino. Not now, not here.
“That’s right,” I say, letting the story settle between us.
Nadya’s gaze lingers on Anya for a moment, then softens just enough. She nods, relaxing her grip on Mila. I let out a breath, keeping my focus on the crowd.
Anya glances at Mila, offers her a gentle smile, then turns her attention back to Nadya and me. I can feel Nadya’s curiosity simmering beside me, but she lets it drop for now, stroking Mila’s hair as if to reassure herself this is still just a normal outing.
Anya crosses her legs, setting her shopping bag at her feet. “So, how’s Mila doing?” she asks, her tone light but her eyes sharp with real concern. “She looks tired.”
“She’s had a rough morning,” Nadya says, voice cautious. She gives Anya a polite smile, still unsure what to make of her.
Anya nods in understanding, glancing at me as if to ask if everything’s truly fine. I hold her gaze a beat, offering the smallest shake of my head, and she catches on without missing a beat.
“Well,” she says, leaning back, “if you ever need a distraction, there’s a gelato place on the second floor that makes everything from scratch. I swear by the pistachio.”
Mila stirs, eyes fluttering open at the mention of gelato. She looks from Nadya to me, then at Anya, curiosity brightening her face just a bit.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” I say, my voice relaxed, doing my best to act as if this is all as casual as it sounds.
Anya glances at her phone, then back at us. “I should go before I spend more than I meant to. The mall’s a dangerous place for impulse shoppers.” She stands, smoothing her dress, and looks at Nadya with genuine warmth. “It was nice to see you all. Take care of Mila, okay?”
Nadya gives a nod, not quite smiling, but her posture softens. “Thank you. Maybe we’ll see you around.”
Anya winks at me as she leaves, a silent promise not to say anything more. As she melts into the flow of shoppers, Nadya sits back and lets out a slow breath, glancing at me with that searching look that says she still has questions but will let them rest—for now.
I keep my arm around her, feeling the unease slip back into the background as Mila leans into my side, content for the moment.