Nina
A little earlier…
She’s composed. Efficient.
Like this is just another task on her list.
When we reach the back exit of the building, a black van is already waiting in the alley. The side door slides open. I try to pull back, but the man behind me grabs my arm harder.
“No,” I say.
Meredith turns. “Get in.”
“No.”
The man shoves me forward.
My injured head spins from the movement, and for one terrifying second, the ground tilts under my feet. I grab the edge of the van door to stop myself from falling.
The man pushes me into the van.
I land hard on the seat, pain flashing behind my eyes. Before I can recover, he climbs in after me and grabs my wrists. Plastic ties snap around them, tight enough to bite.
Meredith gets in last. The door shuts and the van pulls away.
I look at her across the dark space between us. “Luka will find you.”
Meredith says nothing.
“He will,” I say. “You know he will.”
Her eyes stay on mine. “I’m counting on it.”
My stomach drops. I stop talking after that.
The drive is not long, but it feels endless. I try to count turns. Left. Straight. Right. Another right. Rougher road. A stop. A gate rolling open. The smell changes, city stink turning into damp metal and old oil.
I keep my breathing steady because panic will not help me. Luka would tell me to observe. Misha would tell me to stay sharp. I hate both of them for being right when neither of them is here.
The man gets out first and pulls me after him.
I nearly fall again. Meredith catches my elbow.
I jerk away. “Don’t touch me.”
For a second, something moves across her face. Then it’s gone.
“Suit yourself,” she says.
They take me inside through a side entrance.
The warehouse is old and mostly empty, with high ceilings, broken windows covered by sheets of metal, and concrete floors stained by years of use. There are crates stacked along one wall and a few work lights set up near the center. The light is harsh and white. It makes everything look worse.
Including the blood. I see it before I see him.
A dark smear on the concrete. Then a shoe. A hand.
My body goes cold. “Misha?”
He is tied to a chair near one of the metal support beams.
For one second, my brain refuses to accept that the man in front of me is my brother.
His head is hanging forward. His hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood. One side of his face is swollen badly. His shirt is torn and dark in several places, and his arms are tied behind the chair so tightly that his shoulders look wrong.
“Misha,” I scream.
I lunge toward him.
The man holding me yanks me back.
“No,” I shout. “Misha!”
He doesn’t move.
My throat closes.
“No. No, no, no.”
I fight harder, uselessly, stupidly, because there’s nothing else my body knows how to do. The plastic tie cuts into my wrists. The man behind me curses and wraps an arm around my waist to hold me still.
“Misha, please,” I say, and my voice breaks. “Please look at me.”
His head shifts. Barely.
But it shifts.
He’s alive. A sob tears out of me before I can stop it.
“He’s alive,” I whisper.
“For now,” a man says.
I turn.
Oleg Taran stands a few feet away in a dark coat, hands in his pockets, watching me like I’m something he ordered and found slightly damaged on delivery.
Beside him is Kirill Antonov.
I recognize him from the gala immediately. The smug smile is gone now. He looks tense, excited, and angry all at once.
Meredith moves to stand near them.
Oleg looks at Misha, then at me. “He’s been difficult.”
I stare at him. “Let him go.”
Kirill laughs. “That is not how this works.”
“Let him go,” I say again, because I cannot think past the blood on Misha’s face.
Oleg steps closer. “Your brother had a choice. Unfortunately, he made the wrong one.”
I think of every morning at the office. Her passing me files. Her reminding me of meetings. Her asking if I had eaten during late nights. Her making jokes about Luka’s impossible schedule. All that time, she was watching me. Measuring me.
Using me.
Oleg says, “Tie her.”
The man drags me to another chair.
I kick once, catching his shin. He swears and shoves me down hard. Pain bursts through my head. For a second, the warehouse blurs.
“Nina,” Misha rasps.
I freeze.
His voice is rough and almost unrecognizable, but it is him.
I twist toward him. “Misha.”
His head lifts an inch. His eyes are barely open. “Don’t,” he says.
Tears roll down my eyes.
I hate that they get to see it. I hate that Misha has to see it.
The man ties my ankles to the chair legs. Then he cuts the plastic tie at my wrists only to bind my hands behind the chair with rope.
I test the knot once. Too tight.
Meredith notices. “Don’t waste your strength.”
I look at her. “Don’t talk to me like you care.”
“I don’t,” she says.
Her answer lands like a slap.
Oleg smiles faintly. “That is not completely true. Meredith cared a great deal. That was part of the problem.”
Meredith’s face tightens. “Leave it.”
Kirill says, “Why? We have time.”
“No, we don’t,” Meredith says. “Luka will move fast.”
“Yes,” Oleg says. “That is the point.”
I look at him. “What do you want?”
Oleg tilts his head. “From you? Nothing.”
“Then why bring me here?”
“Because Luka Kazan has one weakness now,” Oleg says. “And she is tied to a chair in front of me.”
My stomach turns.
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “We need one final bait to finish Luka. Your brother was useful, but not enough. He is important for a different reason.”
I look at Misha. His breathing is shallow.
“What did you do to him?” I ask.
“He refused to cooperate,” Kirill says.
Misha gives a weak, broken laugh. “Still… talking too much, Kirill.”
Kirill’s face twists. He steps toward him.
Oleg raises one hand. “Leave him.”
Kirill stops, angry but obedient.
That tells me something.
Oleg is in charge here.
Kirill is the loud one, the bitter one, but Oleg is the center of this.
I force myself to look at Oleg instead of Misha because if I keep looking at my brother, I will fall apart.
“You won’t get away with this,” I say.
Oleg says, “People always say that right before someone does.”
“Luka will kill you.”
“That is what we are inviting him to try.”
“You’re insane.”
“No,” Oleg says. “I’m practical. Luka comes for you. He comes angry. He brings fewer men than he should because he will not want to wait. He walks into a place prepared for him.”
My blood goes cold because that sounds exactly like Luka.
I pull against the rope. “He won’t be that stupid.”
Meredith looks at me then. Her face says she knows he will.
And I know it, too. I feel sick.
Kirill steps closer. “Once Luka is gone, the rest of his structure starts cracking. His partners move. His men choose sides. Roman Karpov loses his strongest rival and his best shield.”
I blink. “Roman?”
Oleg’s mouth flattens. “Roman has become inconvenient.”
Kirill scoffs. “Roman thinks he can sit in the middle and profit while everyone bleeds. He has taken men, routes, money, influence. He thinks because he is patient, he is smarter than everyone else.”
“So, you plan to take him down too,” I say.
“Yes,” Oleg says. “After Luka. Or during, if he is foolish enough to interfere.”
Misha shifts in the chair. “He won’t help you.”
Oleg looks at him. “No one asked him to help.”
Misha lifts his head a little more. His swollen eyes try to find me.
“Nina,” he says.
“I’m here,” I say quickly. “I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“No,” I say immediately. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”
He tries to breathe in, and the sound is wrong. Wet. Painful.
Panic rises hard in my chest.
“Oleg,” I say. “Please. He needs a doctor.”
Oleg looks at me without emotion. “He needed one several hours ago.”
I stare at him.
My voice goes quiet. “Why are you doing this?”
Kirill laughs again, but this time it is bitter. “You people always ask that.”
“You people?”
“The ones close to Kazan,” Kirill says. “You all act shocked when the rest of us stop bowing.”
I look at him. “What are you talking about?”
Kirill steps closer, face hard. “Your precious Luka built his empire by deciding who was useful and who could be discarded. Men like us kept doors open. We handled the ugly parts. We moved money, people, shipments, information. We took the risks while he sat above it all like he was better than the rest of us.”
Oleg says, “Kirill.”
“No,” Kirill snaps. “She asked.”
I look between them.
Kirill continues, “When the business went legitimate, men like us became embarrassing. Too rough for boardrooms. Too dangerous for donors. Too inconvenient when he wanted something in return.”
Oleg’s voice is calmer. “Luka rewards loyalty only when it keeps him comfortable.”
“That is not true,” I say.
Kirill sneers. “You say that because he chose you.”
My mouth goes dry.
Meredith’s eyes move to me.
I turn to Meredith. “And you?”
She does not answer at first. Then she steps closer. Her voice is controlled, but her eyes are not. “I managed things you never saw. I kept his schedule clean. I filtered calls. I warned him when people were becoming problems. I smoothed over mistakes he never even knew happened.”
I stare at her.
She continues, “And yes, I passed information.”
“To Oleg.”
“At first, it was small,” Meredith says. “Nothing that put him in danger.”
I laugh in disbelief. “You actually believe that?”
“It was business information,” she says simply.
“You were spying.”
“I was surviving.”
“You were trusted.”
Her face changes. “Trusted?” she repeats. The word comes out almost ugly.
Then she steps closer until she is only a few feet from me.
“Luka never trusted anyone fully,” Meredith says. “But he trusted usefulness. And I was useful for years.” Her eyes flash. “Then you came in.”
I stop breathing.
Meredith looks at me like she has been waiting to say this for a long time. “You were supposed to be another assistant,” she says. “Pretty, efficient enough, replaceable. But then he started giving you things.”
“That is not my fault,” I say.
“No,” Meredith says. “Of course not. You just stood there with your big eyes and your perfect memory and your little moral opinions, and suddenly he was listening.”
I flinch despite myself.