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DMITRI

M y phone vibrates against the desk, and I snatch it up before the first ring ends. Akim's voice confirms what I already knew was coming.

"They want to trade, sir. Lebedev's terms are simple Katarina for Natasha."

The crystal tumbler in my hand shatters. I barely register the sting of glass cutting into my palm as blood drips onto the mahogany desk.

"When and where?" My voice comes out lethal, quiet.

"Tomorrow night. Abandoned warehouse on South Street. They'll send coordinates an hour before."

I end the call and slam my fist against the desk. The pain grounds me and keeps the rage from consuming everything. Erik stands in my doorway, his face a mask of stone.

"You heard?"

He nods, jaw clenched. "We can't trust them. The moment we hand over Katarina?—"

"You think I don't know that?" I cut him off. "They'll try to kill us all. But what choice do we have?"

"There's always a choice." Erik's voice drops. "Let me handle this. I can get Tash out without?—"

"Without giving up your little obsession?" The words come out cruel, but I can't stop them. "How many of our men died protecting her apartment? And now Natasha is paying the price for our war."

"Katarina isn't just an obsession." Erik's hands clench at his sides. "She's different. She doesn't want to go back to him."

"And you think Natasha deserves to die for that?" The rage builds again, threatening to spill over. "Igor will break her, piece by piece until there's nothing left. To prove he can."

"We'll find another way." Erik steps forward. "There has to be?—"

"There is no other way." I pull up the security feed on my laptop, showing Tash's empty apartment, the bloodstains still visible on her carpet. "Igor knows exactly what he's doing. He's using my weakness against me, just like we used his."

"You know what Igor will do to her." My voice drops dangerously low. "His daughter he'll keep safe, even if she hates him. But Tash?" The cut on my palm throbs as I clench my fist. "She means nothing to him except a way to hurt me."

Erik paces. "Katarina told me things about him. The way he—" He cuts himself off, shoulders tight. "I promised to protect her."

"And I promised to keep Natasha safe." The words taste like ash. "How well did that work out?"

"We could set up multiple positions, have snipers?—"

"He'll expect that." I pull up the blueprints of the warehouse district. "The moment he suspects anything, Tash dies. You know how this works."

Erik stops pacing, his face a battlefield of warring emotions. "If we hand Katarina back, everything I've built with her..."

"Will still exist." I hold his stare. "If she truly wants you, she'll find a way. But Tash doesn't have that luxury. Every minute we delay is another minute Igor has to break Natasha."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with understanding. Finally, Erik's shoulders drop slightly.

"I'll make the arrangements." His voice is rough. "But I need time with Katarina first. To explain."

"You have until tomorrow night." I keep my voice steady and controlled despite the storm raging inside me. "Make it count."

Erik's shoulders tense, his hands flexing at his sides. The warrior in him wants to fight, to find another solution, but there isn't one. Not this time.

"Her father—" Erik starts.

"Won't harm her." I cut him off. "Igor is many things, but he protects his family. Katarina will be safe."

"And Natasha won't be." The words hang between us, heavy with understanding.

I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose, fighting back images of what Igor might be doing to her. "Every minute we waste arguing about this is another minute he has her."

"I know." Erik's voice drops. "I just... I thought I'd have more time."

"Time for what? To convince her to stay? To fall in love with her captor?" The words come out harsher than intended, but I can't stop them. "At least she has a choice. Natasha doesn't."

Erik flinches, barely noticeable to anyone who doesn't know him as well as me. "You're right." He straightens, soldier-mode engaging. "I'll tell her myself. She deserves that much."

"Good." I turn back to my desk, dismissing him. "And Erik?"

He pauses at the door.

"Make sure she understands that this isn't personal. This is survival."

He nods once, sharp and military-precise, before disappearing down the hallway. I hear his footsteps fade, heading toward the secure wing where we keep Katarina.

The cut on my palm throbs, reminding me how I lost control. Blood for blood. That's how this game works. But Igor doesn't understand one crucial thing: Natasha isn't just a piece on his chessboard. She's become my weakness, yes, but also my strength.