Chapter 20 Sergei
SERGEI
Next, I go to Nadia’s room.
The door is open. Fresh clothes lie on the bed. A small backpack sits on the chair, half full. Nadia stands by the window with her bear. Anastasia kneels by the open drawer, folding socks.
Nadia runs to me as soon as she sees me.
“Are we going now?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “We’re going to Aunt Tanya.”
She smiles for the first time since the call. “Can I bring the bear?” she asks.
“The bear comes,” I say. “He is part of the contract.”
She laughs softly. The sound eases something tight in my chest.
Anastasia stands.
“I packed two dresses, warm pants, shirts, socks, underwear, pajamas,” she says. “Her toothbrush, brush, hair ties. No toys except the bear. I followed your list.”
I check the bag. It is simple, no extra objects tucked in.
“Good,” I say. “Thank you.”
Her shoulders drop a little with relief.
“Will I come too?” she asks. “To help.”
I look at Nadia. She watches us with sharp eyes.
“Yes,” I say. “You come. You help settle her. Then you return here with Vlad. I don’t want you in the house alone.”
That last part is true. For more than one reason.
She nods. “Of course,” she says. “I will do whatever you say.”
We move fast. Guards close the hall. The elevator is locked for us. We ride down to the garage. Nadia holds my hand so tight, I feel her nails.
On the way, she leans closer.
“Papa,” she whispers. “Do you trust Nastya?”
Her question lands like a blade between my ribs.
I keep my voice calm. “Why do you ask?”
“She was here when Mama fell asleep,” Nadia says. “She made the cocoa. She said it would help us sleep. She smiled all the time. A big smile.”
Her face tightens and her eyes grow bigger. “I didn’t like that smile,” she says. “Her eyes did not look happy.”
She says it in a simple way, but the meaning is not small.
“Did she ever do something that hurt you?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “She’s gentle. She brushes my hair, makes my games work, reads stories. She never hits or shouts at me. But I don’t like her because she keeps trying to know more about Mama. She’s nosy.”
I file that away.
“I hear you,” I say. “You did well to tell me.”
We reach the garage. A black sedan waits, not one of the usual convoy cars. I chose it on purpose. No tinted windows. No plates that scream my name. It’s a car for a quiet uncle, not a Pakhan.
I strap Nadia into the back seat myself. Anastasia sits beside her. I take the front passenger seat. One guard drives. Another car follows at a distance.
The ride to my aunt’s building is short. We pass through traffic lights and short blocks. Nadia watches the streets with big eyes.
I look back once. Anastasia’s hands are in her lap. She stares straight ahead. Her jaw is tight.
“You didn’t sleep,” I say.
“I could not,” she answers. “Not after what happened.”
I watch her a moment longer. She does not meet my eyes.
We arrive at Aunt Tanya’s building. It is old but clean. The courtyard is small, with a few bare trees and one metal bench. I see my men at two points already. They came before us to secure the place. Their coats are plain. Their stances are not.
We climb the stairs. I carry the backpack. Nadia carries the bear. Anastasia walks behind us.
Aunt Tanya opens the door before we knock. She always listens at the peephole when the bell rings.
Her hair is silver. Her body is thin. Her eyes are sharp and warm.
“Seryozha,” she says and pulls me into a quick, hard hug before I can stop her.
I breathe in the familiar scents of old soap and cabbage and tea. For a second I feel twelve again. I push that aside.
“Tyotya,” I say. “I bring you trouble.”
“You always bring trouble,” she says. “You also bring love. Come.”
She bends to Nadia.
“My little bird,” she says with a tender smile. “You’ll be safe here.”
Nadia drops the bear long enough to throw her arms around my aunt’s neck.
“Tyotya,” she says. “Can I stay with you?”
“You can stay as long as you need,” my aunt says. “I have soup. I have cartoons. I have the angry cat.”
Nadia smiles. “She scratches boots,” she says.
“Yes,” my aunt says. “She hates leather. We accept her as she is.”
Anastasia steps into view.
“Hello, Aunt Tanya,” she says. “I’m Anastasia.”
“I know your face,” my aunt says. “You watch my great-niece. You do a good job. She talks about you. Come in.”
We move into the small apartment. The living room holds a worn sofa, a table, and a low cabinet with an old TV. Plants sit on the window ledge. The air is warm.
Nadia runs to the window to look for the cat. The animal stays hidden for now.
I pull my aunt aside.
“She will stay here for some days,” I say quietly. “Vlad has men outside. You lock the door. You do not open it for anyone except the guards you know or me. If something feels wrong, you call this number.” I hand her a phone with one number saved.
She takes it and nods.
“This is about that woman,” she says. “The one who holds your heart in both hands.”
“Yes,” I say. “It is about her. And about enemies who do not fight cleanly.”
She looks at my face for a long second.
“You always walked on the edge,” she says. “Now you carry a child there too. Bring her mother back, Seryozha. This girl’s eyes already look too old.”
“I know,” I say.
Nadia runs back and grabs my leg.
“Papa,” she says. “You will come back.”
“I will,” I say.
She reaches up. I pick her up and hold her tightly. Her arms wrap around my neck.
She pulls back a little and presses something into my hand.
“You take him,” she says. It is the bear.
“He is your guard,” I say. “He should stay with you.”
She shakes her head. “I have Tyotya and the cat,” she says. “You have no one on the road. Take him. He will remind you to hurry.”
My throat tightens.
“I will take him,” I say.
I tuck the bear under my arm for a second and kiss her forehead.
“I will find Mama,” I say. “I will bring her back. This is my oath.”
She looks into my eyes. For a moment she is not four. She is something else. Then she nods.
“Do not let the man talk too much in your head,” she says. “He is full of bad words.”
“You are wiser than you should be,” I say.
“I listened,” she says.
I set her down. My aunt takes her hand.
“Come see the soup,” my aunt says. “You tell me if I put too much salt.”
They go to the kitchen.
Anastasia stands near the sofa, hands knotted.
“I will stay here,” she says. “With them. I will not move.”
I study her.
“No,” I say. “You go back with Vlad.”
She blinks. “Back?” she repeats.
“Yes,” I say. “Back to the apartment. You keep the routines. The enemy watches patterns. If we break them all at once, we show him where our fear sits. That is not in my interest.”
Her jaw tightens.
“You do not trust me,” she says.
I hold her gaze.
“I trust what I can see,” I say. “I’ve seen a lot of good things over the years, but you also served cocoa Raina didn’t wake from. That’s a bother I can’t address right now. When I have an answer, I’ll decide what you are to me.”
Color drains from her face.
“I would never hurt Raina,” she says.
“Then you have nothing to fear from me,” I say. “Go back. Stay under Vlad’s eye. We’ll speak again when I return.”
She draws a breath that shakes and nods.
“Yes,” she says. “As you say.”
My aunt comes back with Nadia. Anastasia kisses the girl’s cheek.
“I will see you soon,” she says.
Nadia nods. Her eyes go back to me at once.
I leave before I change my mind about anything.
On the stairs down, I pull out my phone and call Vlad.
“Keep Anastasia under full watch,” I say. “Do not let her know.”
“You think she is dirty?” he asks.
“I think she is in reach,” I say. “Reach can twist anyone. We watch her until we know.”
“Understood,” he says.
I end the call and climb into the car. The bear sits on my lap. I look at its stitched eyes and feel something dark and sharp settle in my chest.
We drive back to the compound. The team is already formed. Kirill stands near the SUV, maps in hand. The men are in plain winter gear. No clear marks.
I strap on my vest. I check my weapons. Pistols. Knife. Extra mags. Nothing heavy. We want speed.
Andrei hands me a small folder.
“Property plans for the cottage,” he says. “Entry points. Window layout. Old photos.”
I flip through. The photos show a small house with a blue roof and red trim. The door has a carved fox and a round sun. The well ring stands to the right, with three iron hooks for buckets. The trees behind it are tall. In one picture, a thin birch leans at an angle.
The song did not lie.
We move out. The engines are low. We take the main road toward the ring, then north. Traffic thins. City lights fall back.
No one talks much. Kirill sits up front with the map. He calls turns. “Next exit,” he says. “Then straight for twenty minutes. Then the bridge.”
I stare out at the dark and think of the boy whose name sat on that shell company.
We grew up in the same narrow halls. We stole bread from the same shop when we were small.
I pulled him out of a fight once when older boys kicked him.
He looked at me that day with a stare I did not know how to read.
It was not gratitude. It was something else.
A hardness. A promise to himself that he would never be under a boot again.
He came to me years later when I first took a corner from the older men. He wanted in. I gave him a chance. He smiled and said he would build something better for both of us.
In the end, he tried to build it for himself only. He moved funds. He sold routes. I cut him out. I did not kill him. I thought exile would be enough. Men like him always find some lesser crew and fade.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he used that exile as fuel.
We pass the Klin sign. The road grows rough. Snow lines the shoulders. Ahead, I see the first bridge over a narrow cut of water. Then the second. Then the third. Half the guardrail is torn where the flood took it years ago. The pavement drops at the edge.
Nadia’s small voice echoes in my head. “Broken third bridge.”