Chapter 5 #3
But that also means Mikhail doesn’t want her to know. For whatever reason, he wants this little slice of paradise to remain untouched for the life he’s so desperate to weave himself, and that alone annoys me.
He’s been so quick to judge and condemn me for my actions involving Ivy, all the while being a hypocrite himself.
The sound of a key being shoved into the front door’s lock cuts through the quiet like a gunshot.
Roman and I both freeze mid-step, instincts kicking in before thought. The soft jingle of metal is followed by the subtle scrape of the key turning. Someone is on the other side of that door… someone who isn’t supposed to be here right now.
Roman’s hand moves first, sliding beneath the edge of his coat. His thumb brushes the grip of the pistol holstered beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t draw it.
My own pulse quickens, but my hands stay loose at my sides, my eyes tracking to the hallway. The apartment is too small for comfort. Not enough blind corners, no clean exits. If it’s Emily—or worse, Mikhail—we can’t afford to be seen.
Not yet.
We move silently. Roman signals with a glance, and I nod.
We pivot toward the hallway, steps swift and controlled as we slip out of the living room and into the narrow corridor that leads toward the bedroom.
A small alcove there offers just enough cover out of sight from the front entrance but within earshot of anything that happens next.
The door creaks open, then footsteps. A light voice calls out into the apartment, soft and sweet sounding. “Ivan?”
Emily.
Roman shoots me a quick look that says everything.
There isn’t time to react before her footsteps shift and move toward us, coming straight down the hallway. Roman’s head snaps toward me, a curse half-formed on his lips, but there’s no time to voice it. No time to hide or maneuver and retreat.
She rounds the corner within seconds, stopping dead in her tracks the moment her eyes land on us. The shift in her expression is immediate. One second, she’s acclimating to her home again, and the next, she’s faced with two grown men she doesn’t recognize invading her living space.
Her movements are pure instinct, legs already pumping, arms swinging, bare feet thudding against the hardwood floor as she turns and runs the way she came.
Roman is after her first.
“Shit—!” he snarls, lunging.
I’m right behind him.
She’s fast for a woman that pregnant, faster than I expected, honestly. Fear fuels her. Adrenaline turns her into something more nimble, but then she stumbles, her hand shooting out to catch the wall for balance as her center of gravity shifts.
One hand fumbles for the front door trying to wrench it open, the other bracing the wall next to her to keep her upright.
Roman catches her by the arm.
“No! Don’t!” she screams.
She twists, elbow flying, panic making her erratic and wild. Roman grunts, nearly catching the hit square in the face, spinning her around and pinning her gently but firmly against the wall with one hand braced near her shoulder.
“Enough. I don’t want to hurt you,” he snaps.
She thrashes anyway, hands balled into fists as she beats them against his chest with a desperation that’s more heartbreaking than it is threatening.
She’s crying now, her breath coming in ragged gasps, shoulders trembling beneath the thin cotton of her cardigan.
“Please, please, don’t… please, take what you want! I don’t care. Just don’t hurt me!”
Roman’s expression twists, not in pity but discomfort like he’s been shoved into a role he never asked for. He doesn’t want to restrain a terrified, pregnant woman. None of us want this.
“We’re not here to rob you,” I say.
She freezes at that. Just for a second, her shoulders lock up mid-breath. She stares at me like she’s trying to recalibrate, like the words don’t make sense yet.
“W-What?” she finally breathes.
“We’re not here to steal from you or hurt you. We’re not common criminals. If we were, you’d already be on the floor subdued. That should tell you something.”
Roman slowly eases his hold on her, his palms lifting in a gesture of peace. She doesn’t bolt again, just stays braced against the wall like a trapped animal waiting to see which side we’ll come at her next.
I take a careful step closer, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “We’re looking for someone you know. A man from Russia.”
Her gaze flickers between me and the phone, wary but curious.
When I flip the screen around and hold it out, the photo I’ve pulled up is sharp and recent—one of the few clear images we have of Mikhail from the last year.
He’s in profile, caught exiting a building late at night, his jaw tight and eyes shadowed.
Even in the grainy CCTV quality, his features are unmistakable.
Emily’s expression pinches in confusion.
She stares at the image for a long time, trying to reconcile what she’s seeing with something deeply familiar. Her brows furrow, lips pressing together in a thin line. I can practically see the questions bubbling up behind her eyes.
As she leans back against the wall, her voice returns, less frantic sounding now. “Why… do you want to know about my fiancé?”
Roman snorts under his breath.
I don’t even look at him, just shoot a sharp glance sideways. He bites back whatever sarcastic remark had been forming on his tongue and shifts his weight, falling silent again.
I turn back to Emily. “Fiancé?”
She nods, curling her arms protectively around herself. “Yes. He asked me to marry him three weeks ago.”
I nod slowly, tucking the phone back into my pocket. “And that’s the name he gave you? Ivan?”
Her brows twitch together. “Of course… Why would he lie about that?”
It’s the way she says it so earnestly, so effortlessly trusting, that almost makes me pity her. I study her face for a long beat. “Because Ivan, your fiancé, doesn’t exist. Not really.”
“What?”
I continue. “You’re engaged to Mikhail Sidorov. A man who is responsible for multiple homicides, armed trafficking, kidnapping, and the orchestration of a civil war inside a Russian Bratva.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She’s pale, visibly shaken, trying to reconcile two conflicting versions of reality.
One where her fiancé is a kind, generous man who kissed her and her growing belly every night before bed, and another where that same man might be a monster cloaked in charm and tailored suits.
“I know it’s a lot,” I say quietly, trying to soften my voice even as urgency gnaws at the edges of my restraint.
“But you need to listen to me, Emily. You’re not in any trouble.
We’re not here to hurt you. You’re not the one we’re looking for.
But you’re in this whether you like it or not.
And if you want to keep yourself and that baby safe, you have to start seeing the truth. ”
She shakes her head slowly, disbelief etched in every line of her face. “He–He’s not like that. He would never hurt anyone. He volunteers. He adopted a dog that was missing half a leg four years ago… He cried when it got put down. He’s sensitive, he’s kind…”
Roman lets out a sharp breath, folding his arms over his chest. “Yeah, we’ve seen him cry too. Usually out of joy right after he slits someone’s throat.”
Emily flinches as if slapped.
“Roman,” I snap, shooting him a hard look.
He lifts a shoulder, unapologetic. “She needs to hear it.”
I turn back to her again. “I know this is hard. I know this is the man you thought you were going to marry. That he made you feel safe… but none of it was real. Not for him. You were a cover. That doesn’t mean what you felt wasn’t real.
It just means he’s an asshole who didn’t deserve the kindness you’ve given him. ”
Her eyes flit down to her belly. Tears gather at the corners of her lashes. Emily presses both hands harder against her stomach, almost as if she could shield the baby from the truth itself. Her mouth opens and closes a few more times before she finally speaks.
“Why me?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I don’t lie to her. “Because you’re normal. You’re quiet. You’re kind. You don’t come from money. You don’t ask too many questions. You were the perfect cover. You made him look like a man worth trusting. That’s all he needed you for.”
Her jaw trembles.
“I don’t believe you,” she says, but her voice is hollow now, all the conviction gone.
“Yes, you do,” I reply gently.
She doesn’t argue. Instead, her legs give out and she almost sinks down to the floor before Roman catches her and gently lowers her. A sob racks her body, a deep heave that comes directly from the depths of her soul. “What… what do you want me to do?”
“Just tell us where he’s been,” I say. “Where he goes when he leaves here. Any information you’ve overheard him saying while on the phone or to you in passing. Any names he’s mentioned. Anything you thought was strange but brushed off at the time.”
Her mouth trembles again. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” I assure her. “Because you’re stronger than you think. And because that child in your belly? They need you to be brave right now.”
A long silence stretches between us, but eventually, Emily lifts her eyes to meet mine. She nods just once, her voice a whisper. “Okay…”
My phone goes off in my pocket, and normally, I’d choose to ignore it at a time like this with Emily still crumbled on the ground. But there is only one reason anyone from my inner circle would be calling me right now.
I fish the device out with one hand, thumb swiping over the screen, Katya’s name flashing across the screen.
Answering it, I hold it up to my ear and step away from Emily and Roman. “Yes?”
“Facial recognition just pinged.”
My heart slams in my chest, mid-beat. “On?”
“Ivy,” she says. “Matvey’s tech-y shit scraped a public CCTV feed. Got a match two blocks from your current location. Timestamped ten minutes ago.”
For a moment, the blood drains from my face so fast I feel lightheaded. I stare at the far wall without seeing it. “What?”
There’s a shuffle on the other end before Matvey’s voice takes over. “Maksim, she’s wandering out on the streets right now. I’m sending you her coordinates so you can—”
I don’t even bother listening to him finish.
I’m already out the door running.