Chapter 22 Convergence
Convergence
Anton:
Silence sounds different when someone you love disappears into it.
I love you, and then nothing. Just my breathing, the hammer of my pulse, and the empty space where her voice should be.
I didn't say it back.
The comms stayed open through everything. Every word Kirill spoke. Every threat. Fee telling me she loved me while that ghost dragged her into the dark.
Everyone heard.
I need to say it back to her while I have her in my arms.
I pull the phone from my pocket with steady fingers that don't match the chaos inside me. The screen shows nothing, no transmission from her pendant.
Come on, Solnishko. Let me find you.
This business has taught me to compartmentalize. I've lived through hell before. But this, this is different.
Years of killing, and not once have I felt this.
The fear isn't for me, it's an acid burn spreading through my chest. Fee is the first person I've loved who's in danger because of me.
Katya's death destroyed me, but it wasn't my doing. If something happens to Fee...
My thumb hovers over the screen, refreshing the tracking app every three seconds. Nothing. The pendant should be transmitting unless he's found it.
There's a dark pit opening inside my chest where my heart used to be. What matters is that I get the woman who brought me back to life.
What matters is that I'll kill Kirill and anybody who poses any danger to her.
My phone vibrates. The camellia pendant pulses on screen, a small blinking dot moving southeast through Providence's industrial maze.
"ProvPort container district. Kirill's heading for the waterfront."
Alexei's foot crushes the accelerator, the engine roaring as we barrel toward the docks.
The dot keeps moving.
"Alexei, faster. Ruslan," I say into my earpiece.
"Already moving." His voice comes through sharp, engine noise behind him. "Yuri's stable. Eden says to stop worrying and go get your woman."
The tracking dot turns east toward the water. Private boats. Time slipping.
"When I find him..." The dot pulses, distant and desperate. "I want him to suffer. Not quick."
"It'll be my pleasure. What else do you need from me?"
"I need your death potions, Ruslan. The ones that keep a man alive through what should kill him."
The tracking dot continues moving, each blink a reminder that Fee is getting farther away with every passing second.
"Understood." Ruslan's voice is ice cold with promise. "Already packed them. Anything specific you have in mind?"
"Something that lets him feel everything. I want him conscious for every second."
Dominic's voice cuts through on the shared channel. "Boss, we've got the app running. Tracking signal clear on our end."
"How long till water?" I ask, calculating angles and distance in my head.
"Seven minutes at current speed," Dominic replies, weaving through traffic with lethal precision.
Viktor's voice joins in. "We're approaching from the north side. Can cut them off at the marina entrance if you don't reach them first."
The dot slows at the edge of the harbor, pauses momentarily, then continues toward the private docking slips.
"Kirill isn't leaving Providence," I say.
Alexei takes a sharp right, tires screaming as we cut through a side street. The harbor glitters ahead, boats bobbing like toys. Time presses against my skin like a blade.
The camellia tracker continues to blink on the screen, a digital heartbeat that's all I have left of Fee.
"Viktor, Dominic. When we converge, Fee comes first, every time. Get her out, then secure Kirill. I need him alive."
I load a fresh magazine, the metal cool against my fingers. The car swerves around a corner, but my hands remain steady.
The rage inside me wants to say: Destroy him. Tear him apart. Make him scream.
But he doesn't get to die a fast death.
"Immobilize him. Break whatever you need to, but he stays alive. If anyone puts a bullet in his head before I get my hands on him, it better be because he was about to harm Fee."
She told me she loved me, and I'm going to make sure she hears me say it back.
Lorenzo's voice cuts in, sharp with fury. "We're four minutes out. My men are positioned along the eastern perimeter. I have a warehouse ready for these fuckers."
The dot on my phone stops moving right where the marina parking lot meets the concrete dock.
"Cut the lights," I order.
Alexei kills the headlights, and we glide into the far end of the marina lot, engine purring softly. The evening darkness embraces us, a familiar ally under the overcast, moonless sky.
My boots hit the pavement without sound. Tonight, I'll be the ghost that hunts Kirill Belov until his last breath.
I scan the marina. Moonlight catches on water between rows of expensive boats, creating silver pathways through darkness. Perfect hunting ground.
"Split," I mouth to Alexei, pointing left while I take right.
He disappears between vessels, a shadow melting into shadows. I move parallel, using the hulls of luxury yachts as cover.
A flash of movement ahead, two men. One carrying Fee.
My finger caresses the trigger. I navigate closer, keeping low behind a row of sailing vessels. The men pause at a sleek motorboat, its engines already humming.
Fee hangs on his arms, drugged unconscious. Her head lolls against Kirill's shoulder, hair spilling like feathers in the wind.
I press my back against fiberglass, circling to close distance. They're loading her onto the boat now.
A whisper of movement to my right. I pivot, weapon ready, but then a familiar scent hits me. Bergamot and antiseptic.
"Ruslan."
He materializes between two vessels; he's dressed in black tactical gear with a leather medical bag slung across his chest. Two weapons cases are in his hands.
"I found your ghost's boat. Southeast corner." His ice-blue eyes flick to where Kirill is securing Fee. "He's not leaving with her."
"What did you bring me?"
Ruslan sets down one case and opens it. Inside lies a weapon that looks like it belongs on an African safari, a tranquilizer rifle with custom modifications.
Ruslan loads a magazine of specialized darts and gives the rifle to me. "Military-grade neurological disruptors combined with a paralytic that preserves consciousness."
I run my fingers along the familiar barrel. This weapon doesn't kill, it transforms living men into prisoners of their own bodies. "How many can he take?"
"Four is survivable. Five if you want him conscious but suffering organ failure within hours." Ruslan hands me a small case. "Six will kill him, but slowly enough that you'll have time."
I nod, calculating ranges in my head. "And if he's enhanced?"
"Already accounted for." Ruslan pulls a syringe from his medical bag. "He's probably running on a stimulant cocktail, probably adrenochrome with synthetic boosters."
He holds out the syringe filled with amber liquid. "You need this."
I step back instinctively. "You know I don't."
"You want her back? Level the field."
The needle gleams in the darkness between us.
"What is it?" I ask, eyes still tracking Kirill's movements.
"Clarity. Focus. Strength. No hallucinations, no crash for eight hours." His expression doesn't change. "I designed it myself. For situations exactly like this."
I extend my arm. The needle slides in, and fire spreads through my blood.
"Thirty seconds to full effect," Ruslan says. "One dart to slow him. Two to drop him. Three to make him suffer."
My vision sharpens dramatically, the world suddenly crystal-clear in the darkness—every ripple on the water, every breath Kirill takes as he secures Fee to the boat.
"Get her back," Ruslan whispers, "I'll make sure he lives to regret taking her."
Through the enhanced focus of the rifle scope, I trace Kirill's position on the sleek boat. The bastard isn't standing exposed; he's huddled against the cabin wall, Fee positioned as his living shield. Her unconscious body slumps against him, head barely two inches from his.
"Anton Baev! You have one minute to show yourself!" He pulls out a knife. "Or I open her carotid and let her bleed out on this deck!"
She's still unconscious. Completely helpless. At this distance, about 150 yards of night air between us, those two inches might as well be nothing.
I shift along the dock. Left brings no advantage. Right offers nothing better. With every angle I try, Fee's skull is directly in my line of fire.
Ruslan's compound sharpens everything—the distant lap of water against hulls, the slight tremor in Kirill's fingers as he drags Fee higher against him.
"Thirty seconds!" Kirill's voice carries across the water. The knife glints under the dock lights, its edge pressing into the delicate skin of Fee's throat.
Fee's body blocks every kill shot. The tranquilizer darts would need to hit specific targets—neck, face—all hidden behind her head. Kirill keeps readjusting her.
"Ruslan," I whisper into the comms. "You have an angle?"
"Negative. He's using the cabin structure for cover from my position, too."
Viktor's voice crackles through. "Boss, no clean shot from any approach. He's locked this down tight."
This isn't luck. Kirill knows we're here, knows our capabilities. He's positioned himself where no shooter can reach him without risking Fee.
Professional. Prepared. Everything I would have done.
"Twenty seconds!"
Fee's eyes flutter open, the sedatives wearing off. Confusion clouds her face before panic sets in. Her gaze sweeps across the darkness, searching for me. A thin line of blood appears where the knife bites into her skin.
The sight of her blood ignites something primal inside me, something beyond the chemical enhancement. But I lower the rifle.
"What are you doing?" Ruslan hisses through comms.
I step from behind the yacht, walking into the open where the dock lights illuminate me completely.
"I'm here," I call out, voice carrying across the water. "Let her go."
Fee's eyes find mine across the distance.
Fee: