19. Aleksandr #2
I slow mid-step. Suspicion crawls slowly up my spine as my eyes land on the boy standing beside him.
He can’t be older than eighteen, maybe younger.
The kid vibrates with nerves so badly, it’s visible even from across the room.
His shoulders are hunched forward as though trying to collapse in on themselves, and his lanky frame looks even thinner standing beside Sasha who dwarfs him in both height and presence.
The boy clutches a folded piece of paper between his hands like a lifeline.
The moment my footsteps echo across the marble floor, his head snaps up. His eyes widen as they lock onto me. His instinct immediately sends him retreating half a step behind Sasha’s shoulder like a frightened animal trying to hide behind the nearest solid object.
I snort quietly under my breath.
“I’m not in the mood to be receiving gifts,” I say dryly as I approach.
Sasha’s brows shoot upward instantly, confusion flickering across his expression. For a brief second, he genuinely looks like he has no idea what the hell I’m talking about. Then my poor attempt at humor registers.
“Human trafficking isn’t an interest of mine,” he replies flatly.
Behind him, the boy visibly shudders.
He pulls his oversized jacket tighter around himself, the movement almost instinctive as though he’s trying to disappear inside the fabric. His eyes dart nervously between the two of us, clearly unsure which of us is more dangerous. Then, he slowly inches a half-step away from Sasha.
Smart kid.
When I finally reach them, I slow to a stop a few feet away, my gaze flicking between the two of them.
“Neither am I,” I say. “Is this your attempt at pawning off one of your staff on me?” I tilt my head slightly. “Bit young to be put to work as one of my guards.”
Sasha exhales slowly through his nose, already looking mildly irritated. “He’s not one of mine. I don’t know him. He came to my place accidentally. Apparently, he was trying to come here.”
My gaze narrows slightly, jumping back to the boy. He hesitates for a second, then finally gathers enough courage to step forward from behind Sasha. His hand trembles as he extends the folded paper toward me.
“I—I was told to give this to you,” he stammers.
I look down at the letter. The moment I see the handwriting, everything inside me goes still.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
Katerina.
The name slams through my chest like a shockwave, stealing every coherent thought from my mind. My entire body locks in place, the world narrowing down to the folded piece of paper trembling slightly in the boy’s outstretched hand and her familiar handwriting inking the front of it.
It takes a full second before my brain starts working again, and another before instinct takes over.
I snatch the paper from his fingers and unfold it quickly.
I don’t even attempt to hide the way my hands are shaking.
The adrenaline flooding my veins is too powerful to suppress, my pulse hammering so violently, I can hear it roaring in my ears.
My eyes immediately latch onto the words.
Aleks, I’m locked in the east wing. There is an old service tunnel that leads under the house. Comes out at the bottom of the hill. Old storm cellar door. It’s red. -K
I stare at the message for a long moment, then a slow breath escapes my lungs.
She’s alive.
Alive and clear-headed enough to write this. Clever enough to find a way to smuggle a message outside a property crawling with armed guards and surveillance. Not only that, but she’s also already thinking three moves ahead, giving me a way in to extract her.
My fingers tighten slightly around the paper as a slow, dangerous smirk curls its way across my mouth before I can stop it.
Of course she has.
My wife is so incredibly clever at times.
I lift my eyes from the paper to the boy, inclining my head to him. “Thank you for delivering this to me.”
The kid visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat. Up close, he looks even younger than I first thought, pale with nerves and standing stiff like he’s waiting for someone to shout at him.
He flicks his gaze back to Sasha. “I–I have to go now. They don’t know I left.”
He nods once. “The car outside will take you where you need to go. You’ll be dropped off half a mile away from the Borchin estate.”
The boy nods quickly, relief washing across his face so openly, he looks close to passing out because of it.
Without another word, he darts away from us.
His shoes squeak faintly against the polished floor as he rushes toward the front doors, still clutching his jacket tight around himself.
For a moment he fumbles with the heavy iron handles, struggling to pull them open with his shaking hands.
When the doors finally give, cold night air spills into the entryway. He slips outside and disappears into the darkness, pulling them shut behind him.
I stand there listening as a few seconds pass. The muted slam of a car door carries faintly through the walls, following the engine humming as the sound fades slowly when the vehicle pulls away and down the drive.
Only when the hum of it disappears entirely do I look back at Sasha. “What did he say when he showed up at your gates?”
He shrugs slightly, folding his arms across his chest.
“That he had a letter to deliver to you. I don’t know how he got my address, but the moment I read the contents of it…” His gaze flicks briefly to the paper still clutched in my hand. “I knew who it was from.”
The paper is slightly creased from where my grip is holding onto it so tightly. My thumb moves slowly across the paper, tracing the familiar loops of Katerina’s handwriting. It feels strange how something so simple can steady the storm that’s been raging inside my head for days now.
After a moment of silence, Sasha speaks again.
“An underground tunnel shouldn’t be difficult to navigate.
” His tone is calm, analytical the way it always is when he’s mapping out battle strategies.
“Acquiring blueprints of the property from the BTI won’t be difficult, either.
I have a contact who used to work at the agency and still has their credentials. ”
My eyes lift from the letter.
For a moment, we simply stare at each other.
Bringing me Katerina’s letter is one thing.
That could easily be explained away as courtesy.
A practical gesture between members of the Pact who may not like each other but still recognize when information must reach the correct hands.
Passing along a message meant for me would not be stepping out of line.
But this is… something else entirely.
Volunteering his time, offering his contacts, helping me? Sasha Sokolov does not do favors for anyone. There is always an expectation, a debt waiting quietly in the background until the moment he decides it is time to come collect it.
He doesn’t give without taking.
I slowly roll my shoulders back, forcing some of the tension out of my posture as I meet his gaze head on.
“What do you want?” I ask.
His brow creases slightly. “What?”
“Your fee,” I clarify evenly. “For helping me. What do you want?”
Sasha exhales slowly through his nose. “Not everything has to be a transaction, Volkov.”
A bitter laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it. “That’s ironic coming from you.”
His expression tightens slightly, but he doesn’t snap back the way he usually would. Instead, he studies me. For a long moment he says nothing, his gaze moving across my face like he’s studying something beneath the surface, trying to confirm whatever it is he’s looking for.
“I almost lost Alina the same way,” he says after a moment.
My eyes widen slightly.