Chapter 42 Aleksandr
ALEKSANDR
Istudy Lena's face in the dim light of her bedroom. The pallor of her skin. The way her dark blue eyes won't quite meet mine, darting away whenever I hold her gaze too long. The tension in her shoulders that makes her look like she's bracing for impact.
She's hiding something.
The knowledge sits in my gut like a stone, heavy and undeniable. Every instinct I have screams that she's pregnant.
But she's not telling me. And that matters.
I could push, could back her into a corner with questions until she breaks and admits the truth. It would be easy. I'm good at extracting information from people who don't want to give it.
But this isn't some soldier hiding evidence of betrayal.
This is Lena. The woman who pulled me from the snow and nursed me back to health.
Who laughed at my terrible jokes and let me hold her through nightmares.
Who looks at me sometimes like I'm still Sasha instead of Aleksandr, like maybe the man I was in that cabin wasn't entirely a lie.
Pushing her will only make her retreat further. So I step back, giving her the space she clearly needs. My hands ache to reach for her, to pull her against my chest and promise that whatever she's hiding, she can tell me. But I keep them at my sides.
"We'll talk in the morning," I say quietly. "Get some rest."
Relief flashes across her face, so quick I almost miss it.
I move toward the door, then pause with my hand on the handle. "Lena?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever you're not telling me, whenever you're ready to share it, I'm here." I don't turn around, don't let her see how much this matters. "I'm not going anywhere."
I close the door behind me and lean against the hallway wall with my eyes closed. The urge to go back in there, to demand answers, to take control of a situation that feels like it's slipping through my fingers, is almost overwhelming.
But I don't. Because some things can't be controlled, only waited for.
Morning comes too early. I'm in my office by six, coffee already cooling on my desk while I review security footage from the party. Danil arrives at seven, looking as exhausted as I feel.
"You look like shit," he says, dropping into the chair across from me.
"You're one to talk." I gesture to the dark circles under his eyes. "When's the last time you slept?"
"Sleep is for people who don't have a Pakhan to protect." He accepts the coffee I pour him. "What are we looking at?"
I turn my laptop so he can see the screen. "Footage from last night. Watch Katya."
We spend the next hour reviewing every interaction she had at the party. The way she touched arms and leaned close to whisper in ears. The pattern of who she approached and in what order. The subtle glances she exchanged with certain soldiers across the room.
"She's recruiting," Danil says finally. "Building a network. Just as we thought."
"Agreed." I pull up a list I've been compiling. "These are the men she spent the most time with. All of them are under thirty-five, ambitious, and relatively new to the organization."
"Easy to manipulate." He studies the names. "They don't remember what you're capable of. Don't have the history to understand why challenging you is suicide. Or they think the grass is greener on the other side."
"Exactly." I lean back in my chair. "We need to narrow the suspect list. Who had motive, means, and opportunity to pay Yuri to kill me?"
Danil pulls out his own notes. "Katya Rostova is at the top. She has motive, we know that. Her entire family died because of your order. She has the money to pay someone like Yuri. And she's been in the city the whole time, with access to our people."
"Who else?"
"Two lieutenants who gained power during your absence." He slides photos across the desk. "Both of them were mid-level before you disappeared. Both of them moved up fast while you were gone, taking over operations that would have normally required your approval."
I study the photos. The older one is forty-two, scarred and mean-looking, the kind of man who solves problems with his fists. The other is younger, maybe thirty-five, with the smooth face and expensive suit of someone who thinks he's smarter than he is.
"Put surveillance on both of them." I make notes. "I want to know everywhere they go, everyone they meet, and every phone call they make."
"Already done." Danil grins. "You think I've been sitting around the past month doing nothing?"
"I think you've been holding this organization together while I was playing house in Montana." The words come out more bitter than I intend.
"You weren't playing house." His expression softens. "You were surviving. There's a difference."
Before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, and his expression shifts. "It's the investigators. The ones tracking Yuri's movements before the shooting."
"Put it on speaker."
Danil answers, and a woman's voice fills the office. Professional, clipped, all business. "We've found something. Yuri had been meeting regularly with a woman in the months before the shooting. Always at the same hotel bar downtown."
My spine straightens. "How regularly?"
"Once a week for three months. Always Tuesday nights, always the same table in the back corner." Papers rustle on her end. "We pulled security footage from the hotel. The angle isn't great, but we can see her. Auburn hair, elegant, well-dressed. She always paid cash, never used a credit card."
"Send us the footage," I say.
"Already sent."
I pull it up on my laptop, and Danil moves to stand behind me. The video is grainy, shot from a camera mounted near the bar's entrance.
Danil ends the call and we both turn to my laptop. The file loads, and I hit play.
The footage is grainy, the timestamp showing a Tuesday evening four months ago. The bar looks expensive, the kind of place where deals get made over single malt and lies.
"There." Danil points at the screen.
Yuri enters, and even through the poor quality video, I can see his nervousness. He's sweating, his movements jerky as he takes a seat at the back table. He orders something, probably vodka, and checks his watch three times in two minutes.
"He's terrified," I observe.
"Or excited." Danil leans closer. "Could be either."
Then she walks in, and everything about her screams control. The auburn hair catches the bar's low lighting. Her dress fits like it was made for her, elegant without being flashy.
"Look at how she moves," I say. "No hesitation. She knows exactly where she's going."
"She's done this before," Danil agrees.
The woman sits across from Yuri without greeting him, without any of the social niceties normal people use. She's all business. They talk, but the angle makes lip-reading impossible. After maybe five minutes, she slides an envelope across the table.
"Payment," I say.
"Or instructions."
Yuri takes it with shaking hands, and I feel disgust curl in my gut.
"Can you see her face?" Danil asks, leaning closer to the screen for a better look.
I rewind, pause, and zoom in. But the angle is wrong, showing mostly her profile and the back of her head. "Not enough. We need better footage."
"What about her mannerisms? Anything familiar?"
I watch her again, studying the way she holds herself. The confidence. The calculated movements. "She's not some hired messenger. This woman has power."
"Katya?" Danil suggests.
"Wrong hair color. Katya's is darker and shorter." I pause the video on the clearest shot we have. "But that doesn't mean they're not connected."
Danil calls the investigator back, and she answers on the first ring.
"Can we enhance this?" I ask. "Get a better look at her face?"
"We're working on it," the woman says. "But the angle is bad, and the lighting is worse. It might not be possible."
"Try anyway." I watch the red-haired woman stand and leave, her movements graceful and controlled. "What about the hotel staff? Did anyone remember her?"
"The bartender recalls a regular customer matching that description. Said she was polite and tipped well."
"Anything else?" Danil asks.
"We're still digging. But there's one more thing." The investigator pauses. "We reached out to our contacts in Montana like you requested. To check on John Davis and Pavel Galkin."
"And?" I ask.
"Pavel Galkin was found dead in his cabin three days ago. Local police are calling it a suicide."