25. Alina #2
My stomach turns, but I lift the glass and hold it, though I don’t lift it to my mouth just yet. Vladimir sits again, closer now, his knee angled toward mine. “Tell me about Mikhail,” he says.
I keep my voice neutral. “He’s very intentional with what he does.”
“Controlled men break the loudest,” Vladimir replies. “That’s what people forget. Sergei would’ve burned out in a year. Mikhail can burn for decades.”
“And you want to be the one to light him,” I say.
Vladimir grins. “I already did.”
My pulse jumps. I let it show just a little.
He watches it, pleased. “He’s tightening his crews,” Vladimir says. “He’s moving men, trying to look calm and stable while doing it. But the harder you try to project what you’re not, the harsher the burn.”
“You don’t know him,” I say softly, letting it sound like fear.
“I know men,” Vladimir replies. “And I know what he can’t control.”
His eyes drop to my mouth again. “You.”
I lift my glass and finally take a small sip. Enough to show compliance. Not enough to give him any control over what’s in it.
The liquid burns slightly. Alcohol. Nothing else.
Good.
I set the glass down. “So, what happens now?”
Vladimir rests his forearm on his knee. “Now you do what you should’ve done years ago. You stop pretending you’re above the rules. You stop pretending you can choose your own life.”
I keep my voice small. “I tried.”
“I know,” he says. “You were stubborn. It was almost charming.”
He leans forward. “You know what you were born for, Alina?”
My stomach tightens. I force the answer out. “To make peace.”
“To make legitimacy,” Vladimir corrects. “To sit at the right table. To smile at the right donors. To have a child who can inherit without anyone asking questions.”
I think of Oisin’s eyes. I keep my face blank.
Vladimir watches my silence and misreads it. “You want him safe,” he says. “You want the boy out of this.”
“Yes,” I say quickly, like I’m pleading.
Vladimir smiles. “Then you’ll behave.”
“I will,” I say.
He studies me for a long beat. The room is quiet except for the soft sound of the river beyond glass.
Then he nods once, as if he’s made a decision. “Bring him in,” he calls toward the door.
The man by the wall opens it. Another man enters, older, clean, wearing a suit that reads medical more than soldier. He carries a slim case.
Vladimir gestures lazily. “Doc.”
The doctor’s eyes flick to me, then away. No expression.
Vladimir points at my drink. “She’s nervous. Fix it.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
Vladimir doesn’t even look at me. “You’re not. You’re useful, so you stay functional.”
The doctor steps closer. “It’s only a vitamin shot,” he says, tone bland. “It’ll steady you.”
I keep my face tired and compliant. I lift my sleeve without being asked.
Inside, my pulse climbs.
The doctor swabs my skin, and the cold makes me tense as he brings the needle in.
I hold my breath as it pierces, and Vladimir watches my face like he’s waiting for me to beg, but I don’t.
The doctor depresses the plunger, and heat spreads under my skin fast.
I blink once, and then I blink again, and the room shifts slightly, not spinning, just loosening at the edges, and my body feels three steps behind my brain.
“What did you give me?” I ask sharply.
Vladimir laughs. “Smart girl. You felt it.”
My throat begins to feel heavy, and my tongue starts itching.
Tears rush into my eyes as I swallow hard, and the capsule presses back, still solid and present.
It’s still transmitting the signal, and that’s most important.
The moment Vladimir moves me, it’s the only way Mikhail will find me to bring me back.
Vladimir leans forward, elbows on his knees, and his smile turns cruelly satisfied. “You thought you were the only one who could act tired,” he says.
I try to stand. My legs refuse for half a second, then obey badly. I catch the chair arm. My hand shakes.
The doctor steps back. The guard by the wall shifts closer. Vladimir’s voice stays calm. “Sit,” he says.
I force myself upright again and sit because I need to look like I’m still choosing it, even now.
He tilts his head. “You walked in here thinking you were clever,” he says. “Thinking you’d bait me. Thinking you’d make me talk.”
I keep my eyes on him. “You did talk.”
“I did,” he agrees. “Because I wanted you to hear what I had to say.” He shrugs his shoulders. “You performed well enough to at least deserve that.”
My stomach drops. I keep my face neutral with effort. “You knew.”
“I knew the moment you walked in,” Vladimir says, pleased with himself. “Your posture wasn’t that of a victim, Alina, and I’ve been around enough victims to know. You were playing broken, but you weren’t broken. You were measuring exits.”
My breath comes faster. My lungs still work, but my body just isn’t cooperating.
Vladimir points at me. “You want to know what you are?” he says. “You’re bait.”
He stands and steps closer, stopping directly in front of me, and lifts my chin with two fingers. His touch makes my skin crawl. “You want to know the best part?” he murmurs. “I let you in because I wanted him to move. I wanted Mikhail Morin to show his hand.”
I force my mouth to shape words. “He won’t.”
Vladimir laughs quietly. “He already has.”
My eyelids feel heavier. My mind stays sharp, but my body is slipping.
I keep swallowing. The capsule presses. Still there. Still solid.
Vladimir watches my struggle and enjoys it.
The room dims at the edges. My hearing narrows. I focus hard on one thought only.
Transmit.
Transmit.
Then the darkness closes in as Vladimir turns his head and speaks to his men.
“Move her,” he says. “Now.”