Page 26

26

Lev

I call Anton to find out what he’s learned. Within thirty minutes, we’re sweeping through the Bronx, tapping his low-level street rats for intel. The streets of New York are darker than usual tonight. Or maybe it’s just me. I sit in the passenger seat of his blacked-out SUV, my eyes scanning the road as if it’s going to give me answers. It won’t. I already know that. But sitting still drives me insane. And insanity is too close for comfort.

Anton hasn’t said much. He doesn’t have to. He’s one of the few men I can trust to ride with me through hell without asking questions.

"Still nothing from your guy?" he finally asks.

I shake my head. "Felix says he’s working on another angle, but it’s cold. The burner lead went dead."

Anton mutters a curse under his breath, turning down a side alley. Neon lights flicker overhead, casting jagged shadows across the wet pavement. We’ve been driving for hours, stopping by every lowlife joint, cartel-affiliated bar, and underground gambling den I’ve ever known. So far, it’s been a whole lot of dead ends.

I roll down the window and lean out, scanning a corner where two men huddle close, exchanging something. I know the signs. Drug drop.

"Pull over."

Anton brakes, and I’m out of the car before he even shifts into park. I stalk toward the men, moving fast and low, my gun tucked beneath my jacket. They start to run, but I’m faster. I grab the taller one by the collar and slam him against the brick wall.

"You hear anything about a girl being taken in the last twenty-four hours? Russian. Dark hair. Twenty-five."

He shakes his head rapidly. "Nah, man, I swear! I don’t know anything!"

The other guy tries to slip away. Anton catches him easily, pinning his arm behind his back.

"We’re not asking again," I growl.

The guy against the wall whimpers. "Please. We didn’t hear about no girl. Just some shipment delays. Cartel’s been jumpy. That’s all."

Jumpy. That’s something.

I slam him once more for good measure before stepping back. Anton also releases the other guy, who bolts without a word. We get back in the SUV. My knuckles ache, and I flex my hand, resisting the urge to punch the dashboard.

"You believe them?" Anton asks.

"Yeah, they don’t know anything. If they did, they’d be more scared."

Anton nods. "Where to next?"

I stare out the windshield. The city stretches endlessly, a maze of shadows and secrets. Somewhere out there, she’s being held. Hurt. Alone.

I shake my head. "Nowhere. Not tonight."

He doesn’t argue. He just drives.

We pull up outside my place close to 3 a.m. The silence is suffocating. The walls of my home have never felt so empty.

Anton shifts in his seat. "You gonna sleep?"

I let out a hollow laugh. "Sleep? No. I’ll keep digging from here."

He opens the driver’s side door to follow me, but I stop him. "Just stay close to your phone. If anything comes up—anything—I’ll let you know."

"Got it." He nods and shifts his gear into drive.

I watch him drive off before heading inside. The door closes behind me with a heavy click. I’m alone again. Surrounded by silence and memories. I lower myself onto the couch, my head in my hands, and whisper her name.

My phone buzzes. It’s Viktor, and I swipe to answer.

"Fog’s cleared," he says. "Zasha and I are heading back later today. Jet’s been cleared for takeoff."

"Good," I reply. "I really need you to be here."

"Any movement?"

I hesitate, jaw tightening. "Nothing. I’ve turned over every rock in this city. Not a goddamn whisper."

Silence stretches for a moment on the other end.

"I don’t like this," Viktor mutters. "Feels professional. Quiet. Whoever did this knows how to disappear."

“We’ll get them,” I vow before I end the call.

My phone buzzes again. This time it’s one of the favours I’ve called in, Dmitri. "Lev," he says, breathless. "I think I’ve got something."

I sit up straight. "Talk."

“Traffic camera footage from a street two blocks from the airport. The timestamp matches the night Alina disappeared. You’re gonna want to see this.”

I’m already on my feet, and within seconds, I’m back at the screens in my surveillance room. The footage Dmitri forwarded is grainy, but I can see a dark SUV with tampered plates creeping down a deserted stretch of road. With no readable plate or visible driver, whoever was in that car didn’t want to be found.

I stare at the screen. It’s not much. But it’s something. I print the photo and pin it to the board beside Alina’s photo.

"Hold on, kotyonok," I murmur. "I’m not stopping until I bring you home."