Chapter 28 Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
I grip the wheel harder, my fingers aching from how tightly I’m holding on. The engine growls under me as I push the pedal further, city lights blurring past in my periphery. My mind is spinning faster than the tires.
“Slow down,” Arman says from the passenger seat, one hand braced against the dash. “You’re going to get us killed.”
“She’s not picking up,” I bite out. “And neither is Maksim. Goddamn it.”
I can hear the panic clawing at my voice, but I can’t rein it in.
Rifat leans forward between the seats. “You think something went wrong?”
“I know it did.”
She wouldn’t be silent unless she had no choice.
Beside me, Rifat shifts uneasily. “She knew the ship was a trap. Said it herself. They wouldn’t give Nikolai up without blood—”
“She knew,” I cut in. “That’s exactly why she went.”
She called while I was still at the club…
I close my eyes, pretending to rest, when the phone buzzes in my pocket. Her name lights up the screen like oxygen.
“You have to go to the meeting,” she says the second I answer. “Viktor’s planning something. It’s happening tonight.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly, looking up at the ceiling. “He said as much. Took me out of the loop for a reason.”
“What’s that? Did he try to give you something?” she asks, concerned. “Did you drink anything?”
“I’m not that easy to take out.”
I can hear her breathing. Fast. Like she’s walking quickly through wind.
“I don’t like this. I don’t like you being there with him alone.”
“And I don’t like you going to that ship by yourself,” I say. “You know it’s bait. You said it yourself.”
“I don’t have a choice, Kon. If there’s even the smallest chance Nikolai is there, I have to take it.”
“We could go together—”
“We can’t.” Her voice cracks just slightly before she masks it. “They’re watching. Listening. If we disappear together, they’ll know.”
I want to argue. But she’s right. We’re stronger when the rest of the world thinks we’re apart. When we look like we’re falling apart.
“You know I’ll come for you,” I say. “If anything happens. I’ll crawl to you if I have to, but I will come.”
I pull the car up just beyond the reach of the sodium lights, heart thundering.
The engine hums beneath me, the smell of salt and oil thick in the air.
As I open the door, a jolt of pain tears through my thigh.
I grit my teeth and press a hand to my leg.
The wound from Viktor—still raw, still bleeding through the gauze beneath my jeans—makes every movement agony.
But none of it matters.
Pain is only a shadow compared to the fear clawing at my gut. Nadya is somewhere in that tangle of steel and shadows. She needs me. Nikolai needs me. I force myself out of the car, ignoring the throb that runs like fire up my side.
Rifat glances down at my limp. “You sure you can run on that?”
“I don’t have a choice,” I snap, hobbling toward the gangway. “She’s in there, and she’s not alone.”
Arman falls in behind me, eyes narrowed. “Don’t do anything reckless.”
I almost laugh at that. Everything about tonight is reckless. The only thing worse would be letting pain or fear keep me from my wife.
I steel myself, push through the agony, and lead us toward the ghostly outline of the ship.
We move in silence, boots thudding across broken concrete as we approach the looming hulk. Rusted gangways groan under our weight. The only light comes from the moon, glinting on oil-slick water and the jagged teeth of steel railings.
Arman goes up first, scanning the shadows with a practiced eye. Rifat is right behind him, one hand resting lightly on his concealed weapon. I follow, every step sending a fresh spear of pain up my injured leg. But I force myself to keep up.
Halfway up the gangway, a gunshot splits the night.
My heart skips, cold fear slamming into my chest. For a split second, the world stops. Then I shove past the others, heedless of the pain, teeth bared. “Move!”
We sprint up the last stretch, the metallic clang of our steps swallowed by another burst of gunfire echoing from somewhere deep inside the ship. My mind flashes back to few nights ago when I last met Arman in his car, when he had just saved us from what I now know were Viktor’s men.
Arman’s car rattles to a stop on an empty street lit only by a flickering lamp. Nadya’s jaw is set, her eyes hard with betrayal. The door slams behind her before Arman has even finished braking. I get out too, ignoring the jolt of pain in my leg.
She doesn’t look at me as we stand on the curb, city noise hushed at this hour. “I’ll find my own way from here,” she says coldly, her breath steaming in the dark. “You should do the same.”
I play my part—shoulders tense, voice quiet. “You’re not safe on your own.”
Nadya doesn’t flinch. “Better than being lied to by my own family.”
We hold the silence for a few more seconds, then I turn and walk in the opposite direction, not daring to look back.
I duck into a side alley and wait until Arman’s taillights vanish, then loop back through the maze of backstreets.
I find her waiting in my apartment, hair damp from the mist. She closes the curtains and peels off her jacket.
“You think they bought it?” she asks, arms crossed.
I manage a smirk. “You’re a very compelling actress.”
She cracks a smile. “So are you—though I’d say you’re a bit more dramatic, since you threw Ivana off the bridge.”
I shrug. “Necessary evil. I couldn’t let Viktor suspect that Ivana was working with us.”
Maksim had been the one to find Ivana. He’d tracked her movements across half the city, tailing her from market stalls to a crumbling walk-up and finally into a narrow alley behind a shuttered bar. Nadya and I followed close behind, blending into the shadows.
We caught up to her just as she tried to slip through a rusted side door. Nadya was on her in a second, fast and cold, one hand closing around Ivana’s arm, pinning her against the alley wall. Her breathing was sharp, her eyes wild, but she didn’t try to run.
Nadya pressed in, her face inches from Ivana’s. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now.”
Ivana’s eyes darted, then dropped. She wrapped both arms around her middle, voice trembling. “I have a child.”
Nadya’s jaw tightened. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” Ivana whispered, tears brimming. “A baby boy. Alexei’s. But he’s left me—abandoned us to the wolves. Please. I have no one left. I can help you, but you have to protect me.”
For a long moment, none of us spoke. The night pressed in, full of rot and garbage and fear. Nadya’s hand dropped from Ivana’s shoulder, but her eyes never left her face. I had simply watched them both, the old city humming in my chest, already knowing what choice we would make.
Now, Arman lifts a hand, halting us beneath a collapsed section of rail. I press my back against the cold steel, my breath clouding in the damp night air. Up ahead, two men stalk the walkway, flashlights sweeping lazy arcs over the rust and shadows.
“We have to be very careful,” Arman says. “One wrong move and this whole place will come down on us.” He takes the safety off his gun with a quiet click, checking the chamber one last time.
I glance ahead, measuring distance, mapping every escape route in my head. My leg aches, the wound pulsing, but I force myself to focus.
From behind me, Rifat leans close, voice dry. “I imagine she won’t be too pleased to see us here.”
I can’t help a small, grim smile. “She’ll come around,” I say, eyes never leaving the path ahead. “She always does.”
Arman nods, catching my eye. “Let’s move. Stay close, and no noise unless we’re caught.”
We find Arman’s safe house tucked behind a laundry with faded blue awnings, the kind of place nobody notices unless they have a reason. Maksim picks the lock in under ten seconds, and I push the door open, gun already drawn.
Inside, Rifat stands by the window, startled, hand dropping instinctively toward his waistband until he sees the weapon aimed square at his chest.
“No funny business or I put a bullet in you right here,” I say, voice flat.
He raises his hands in surrender, backing away from the glass. Arman appears in the next room, eyes hard but unafraid, stopping in the doorway.
“Hands where I can see them,” Maksim orders, sweeping the room for any others.
Arman’s eyes flick from Maksim to me. “Are you here to kill me?” he asks, voice steady.
I shake my head, lowering the barrel just a hair. “You raised Nadya. You’re the reason she’s the person she is. I’m not here to hurt you, Arman. I’m here for help.”
He studies me for a long moment, weighing my words, then nods once, slow and resigned.
Rifat’s whisper breaks through my focus as we watch the guards from our hiding place. “You know, I never understood one thing—how did you find us that night?”
I allow myself a small smirk as I edge forward. “Simple. I put a tracking device in your car.”
Rifat shakes his head, barely hiding a smile of his own, and I move out of the shadows, eyes fixed on the path ahead, ready for whatever comes next.
We slip forward, pressed tight against the hull as the ship groans above and below us, every shadow shifting with the movement of men. Arman signals us to fan out. I move ahead, biting down against the pain in my thigh, my heart beating louder than my footsteps.
The two guards ahead are talking, oblivious, their rifles slung too casual for the kind of night this is.
I duck under a pipe, catch Arman’s eye, and we move as one.
He takes the man on the left. I come up behind the right, clapping a hand over his mouth and dragging him back into the darkness.
He thrashes—an elbow catches my wound and I almost drop him, but rage steadies me.
I slam his head against the steel bulkhead and he goes limp, body crumpling.
Arman dispatches his man with brutal efficiency. Rifat follows, covering us as we drag both bodies behind a crate, out of sight.
We don’t speak. Every noise could bring more. We press on.