48

Lia

The weight of the folder in Petrik’s hands felt heavier than it should have. As we hurried back to the car, my mind raced, replaying what we’d just found: bank records, offshore transfers, and a direct connection to a man who specialized in making people disappear. Grekov wasn’t just powerful—he was ruthless.

“Are you sure this is enough?” I asked as we climbed into the car, Nikolai already behind the wheel.

“It’s a start,” Petrik said, his voice grim. “But we need more than just circumstantial evidence if we’re going to turn him.”

“More?” I echoed, my stomach sinking. “Petrik, this is already dangerous enough. How much further can we go?”

He turned to face me, his expression hard. “As far as we need to.”

I didn’t respond, but the tension between us was thick. Nikolai remained silent, his focus on getting us back to the safe house without incident. The drive felt longer than it was, every shadow on the road a potential threat.

When we finally arrived, the relief was fleeting. The safe house felt smaller than before, the walls closing in around us. Nikolai immediately set up his laptop, scanning the documents we’d taken while Petrik and I paced the room.

“We need to use this carefully,” Nikolai said, breaking the silence. “If Grekov catches wind that we have this, he’ll retaliate hard.”

“That’s why we need to act fast,” Petrik said, leaning over Nikolai’s shoulder. “We need to find Ivanovich—or proof of what happened to him. If we can tie Grekov to his disappearance, we’ll have leverage.”

“And if we can’t?” I asked.

Petrik’s gaze flicked to me, and I saw the determination in his eyes. “We will.”

The next morning, we split up. Petrik and Nikolai would follow the paper trail, tracing the offshore accounts and payments to see if they led to any more connections. I, on the other hand, had a different task.

Elena.

She’d made it clear she wanted Diana’s empire, but she hadn’t committed fully to our side. If we were going to use the information we’d found against Grekov, we needed her backing. And that meant I had to convince her that we could deliver on our promise.

The ride to Elena’s penthouse was nerve-wracking. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I replayed everything I planned to say. I wasn’t as polished as Petrik or as calculating as Nikolai, but I had something they didn’t: determination. Elena needed to see that we weren’t just playing games. This was real.

When I arrived, she was waiting for me, her expression as cool and unreadable as ever.

“Lia,” she said, gesturing for me to sit. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I figured it was time for a face-to-face,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “We found something.”

Her interest piqued, though she masked it well. “Go on.”

“We have proof that Grekov was involved in Sasha Ivanovich’s disappearance,” I said. “Payments to a contractor, offshore accounts—it’s all there.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. But proof is one thing. Action is another.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said, leaning forward. “You said you wanted Diana’s empire. This is how you get it. If we can take down Grekov, it’ll send a message to the rest of her network. They’ll see that she’s vulnerable, and they’ll start to turn.”

Elena’s lips curled into a faint smile. “And you think you can handle Grekov?”

“With your help, yes,” I said. “We need resources, contacts—anything you can give us. This is your chance to prove you’re serious about taking her down.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her sharp eyes studying me like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. Finally, she nodded.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll help. But this doesn’t come for free.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“When this is over, I want a seat at the table,” she said, her tone firm. “If Diana’s empire falls, I’m not just cleaning up the mess. I’m taking control.”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. This wasn’t the time to play moral high ground. “Deal.”

Elena smiled, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

Back at the safe house, Petrik and Nikolai were waiting for me, their expressions tense. I barely had time to step through the door before Petrik spoke.

“We found something,” he said, holding up a file. “The contractor Grekov hired—he has a safe house in the city. If Ivanovich is alive, he might be there.”

“Or it could be another dead end,” Nikolai added, his tone cautious. “It’s a long shot, but it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

I nodded, my mind already racing. “Then we check it out. Tonight.”

Petrik frowned. “Lia, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

“Since when has any of this been safe?” I countered. “If we wait, we could lose our chance.”

He didn’t argue, though I could see the frustration in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But we go in prepared.”

The safe house was a small, nondescript building tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. It looked abandoned, the windows boarded up and the yard overgrown with weeds. But as we approached, it was clear the building wasn’t as empty as it seemed.

“There’s a guard at the back,” Nikolai said through our earpieces. “Armed.”

“Just one?” Petrik asked.

“For now,” Nikolai said. “But there could be more inside.”

Petrik and I exchanged a look, then moved quickly and silently toward the back of the building. The guard was pacing, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn’t even see Petrik coming.

With a swift, calculated move, Petrik disarmed him, knocking him unconscious before he could make a sound. We slipped inside, our footsteps careful on the creaking floorboards.

The house was dark, the air thick with dust and the faint smell of mildew. We moved room by room, searching for any sign of Ivanovich—or evidence of Grekov’s involvement.

“Over here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

In one of the back rooms, there was a chair, chains bolted to the floor. The walls were covered in scratch marks, and the air felt heavy, oppressive.

“This is it,” Petrik said, his voice low. “This is where they kept him.”

“But where is he now?” I asked.

Before Petrik could answer, a noise from upstairs froze us in place. Heavy footsteps, followed by the sound of a door opening.

“We’re not alone,” Petrik whispered, his hand tightening around the knife at his side.

My heart pounded as we moved toward the staircase, every step bringing us closer to whatever—or whoever—was waiting above.