35. City on a Leash
City on a Leash
Roman
The silence after the breach is worse than the alarms.
Because alarms mean we’re still reacting.
Silence means we’re already behind.
I stand in the corridor where she was taken.
Smoke thinning.
Shell casings scattered.
Blood—not hers.
Good.
Small mercy.
My hand closes around the broken security chain hanging loose from the side door.
It shouldn’t be broken.
It shouldn’t even exist.
This corridor wasn’t on any official plan.
Which means someone added it.
Or hid it.
Inside my own system.
Inside my own house.
I tighten my grip until the metal bites into my palm.
A fortress is only as strong as the men inside it.
And mine—
Are compromised.
“Viktor,” I say.
He steps beside me, already blood-marked from the firefight.
“Internal breach confirmed,” he says. “Access points were modified.”
“How long.”
“Unknown. Weeks. Maybe longer.”
Too long.
Far too long.
I release the chain slowly.
“Casualties.”
“Minimal,” he replies. “They didn’t come to kill.”
No.
They came for her.
“Vehicle?” I ask.
“Unregistered van. Plates swapped. Route scrambled.”
“Track it.”
“Already running.”
I turn away from the corridor.
From the evidence of failure.
Because standing here won’t bring her back.
Action will.
“Lock everything down,” I order.
“Already started.”
“Not enough.”
My voice sharpens.
“Ports.”
“Closed.”
“Accounts.”
“Freezing.”
“Safe houses.”
“Secured.”
“Every exit from this city becomes a choke point,” I say. “No movement without my approval.”
Viktor nods once.
“Understood.”
Money is power.
And power can be tightened.
Like a leash.
My phone vibrates.
Anya.
I answer immediately.
“Yes.”
Her voice is urgent.
Controlled.
“Roman, I need you to listen carefully.”
“Say it.”
A pause.
Then—
“Confirmed pregnancy.”
The words land heavier than any bullet.
For a moment, everything else fades.
The breach.
The betrayal.
The war.
All of it narrows to one thing.
Her.
And what she’s carrying.
“Are you certain,” I ask.
“Yes.”
“How far.”
“Early,” she replies. “But viable.”
My chest tightens.
Not outwardly.
Internally.
Controlled.
Contained.
Dangerous.
“She needs protection immediately,” Anya continues.
“She already has it.”
“No,” Anya says sharply. “Not like this.”
Silence.
Because she’s right.
Everything just changed.
“She’s not just a target now,” Anya says. “She’s—”
“I know what she is.”
Mine.
The word doesn’t leave my mouth.
But it settles deep.
Cold.
Absolute.
“If they find out,” Anya adds, “the risk multiplies.”
“They already know.”
The silence on the other end of the line is brief.
Then—
“Roman—”
“I’ll handle it.”
I hang up.
Because I don’t need advice.
I need results.
I step into the command room.
Screens flood with data.
Movement logs.
Financial routes.
Communication intercepts.
The city is alive.
And now—
It belongs to me.
“Listen carefully,” I say.
Every man in the room stills.
“We are not searching.”
Confusion flickers.
“We are controlling.”
I step closer to the central display.
“Every dollar that moves in this city touches us,” I continue. “Every shipment. Every account. Every transaction.”
I look at Viktor.
“We tighten it.”
His eyes darken.
“How far.”
“All the way.”
Understanding hits.
Brutal.
Effective.
Dangerous.
“Anyone who wants to move her,” I say, “needs money. Needs access. Needs space.”
“And we remove all three,” Viktor finishes.
“Yes.”
The city begins to shift under our control.
Ports shut down.
Ships halted mid-route.
Accounts frozen.
Cash flow strangled.
Safe houses monitored.
Every exit becomes a trap.
Every movement becomes visible.
I turn to the screen.
“To take her,” I say quietly, “they need to breathe.”
I lean closer.
“So we take the air.”
The video arrives an hour later.
Unmarked.
Direct.
My screen lights up.
Viktor moves beside me instantly.
“Trace?” he asks.
“Later.”
I open it.
The image stabilizes.
Grainy.
Dimly lit.
Concrete walls.
A chair.
And her.
Vera.
Bruised.
Bound.
Alive.
My chest tightens once.
Then stills.
Because she’s breathing.
Because she’s still here.
Her eyes lift slightly toward the camera.
Sharp.
Unbroken.
Good.
Then—
He steps into frame.
Orlov.
Impeccable as always.
Untouched.
Smiling.
“Roman,” he says calmly.
My hand tightens around the edge of the table.
“You’ve made this city very… uncomfortable.”
His tone is polite.
Almost amused.
“You see,” he continues, “control works both ways.”
He steps closer to Vera.
Too close.
My vision sharpens.
Narrows.
Deadly.
“Careful,” he murmurs to her.
Then looks back at the camera.
“She’s alive,” he says. “For now.”
The smile never leaves his face.
“And if you want her to stay that way…”
He pauses.
Just long enough to make it deliberate.
“You’ll start listening.”
The video cuts.
The room is silent.
Except for the sound of something inside me locking into place.
Not panic.
Not rage.
Something colder.
More precise.
He has her.
He knows.
And now—
I make sure he regrets both.