49

Lia

The sound of footsteps above us sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Petrik’s hand tightened around his knife, his body tense and ready. I clenched my fists, every nerve on high alert. Whoever was upstairs wasn’t expecting company—and they weren’t going to leave without a fight.

“Stay close,” Petrik whispered, his voice barely audible.

We moved up the staircase slowly, the wooden steps creaking beneath our weight. Each sound felt deafening in the oppressive silence of the house. The air grew heavier with every step, the tension thick enough to choke on.

At the top of the stairs, a faint light seeped through the crack under a closed door. The footsteps had stopped, replaced by the muffled sound of someone moving around inside. Petrik glanced back at me, his expression hard, and gestured for me to stay behind him.

He pushed the door open slowly, revealing a small, dimly lit room. A single man stood by a desk, his back to us. He was flipping through a stack of papers, completely unaware of our presence. The room smelled faintly of cigars and sweat, and the walls were lined with shelves crammed with files and equipment.

Petrik moved swiftly, his footsteps silent as he closed the distance between them. Before the man could react, Petrik had him pinned against the desk, the knife pressed against his throat.

“Don’t move,” Petrik hissed.

The man froze, his hands raised in surrender. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, and there was a faint tremor in his limbs. He wasn’t a fighter—he was scared.

“Who are you?” Petrik demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The man swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “I-I’m just the caretaker. I don’t know anything, I swear.”

“Bullshit,” Petrik snapped, pressing the blade closer. “This house belongs to one of Grekov’s men. What are you doing here?”

The man’s eyes darted between us, panic etched across his face. “I—I was hired to clean up, that’s all. I don’t ask questions.”

I stepped forward, my heart pounding. “We’re looking for Sasha Ivanovich. Do you know where he is?”

The man hesitated, his lips trembling. “I—I don’t know where he is now. But he was here… for a while.”

Petrik’s grip tightened, his jaw clenching. “And then?”

The man flinched, his voice barely above a whisper. “They moved him. Said it was too risky to keep him here.”

“Where did they take him?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “They don’t tell me those things. I just clean.”

Petrik let out a frustrated growl, shoving the man back against the desk. “Useless.”

“Wait!” the man blurted out, holding up his hands. “I—I might have something. They left some files behind when they moved him. I didn’t touch them, I swear.”

Petrik and I exchanged a look. “Where are they?” he asked.

The man gestured toward the shelves. “On the top. In the black folder.”

Petrik grabbed the folder, flipping it open. Inside were documents, photos, and a small USB drive. He scanned the pages quickly, his eyes narrowing.

“This is it,” he said, his voice grim. “It’s all here—payments, locations, everything.”

Before I could respond, a faint noise echoed from downstairs. The sound of a door opening, followed by heavy footsteps.

“They’re back,” the man whispered, his face pale.

“Shit,” Petrik muttered, grabbing the folder and shoving it into his bag. “Lia, stay behind me.”

We moved toward the door, the man cowering in the corner as we prepared for whoever was coming. The footsteps grew louder, more deliberate, and my heart felt like it might burst out of my chest.

When the first man appeared at the bottom of the staircase, Petrik didn’t hesitate. He moved like lightning, his knife slicing through the air as he tackled the intruder. The man hit the ground hard, letting out a grunt of pain, but before Petrik could finish him, another figure appeared behind him.

“Petrik, look out!” I shouted.

Petrik spun just in time, narrowly dodging a blow from a crowbar. He lashed out, his knife catching the second man in the leg. The man stumbled, cursing loudly, but it didn’t stop him. He lunged again, and this time, Petrik wasn’t fast enough.

I didn’t think—I just acted. Grabbing a heavy bookend from the desk, I hurled it at the second man, the impact knocking him off balance. Petrik seized the opportunity, delivering a swift blow that sent him sprawling.

“Go!” Petrik shouted, grabbing my arm. “Now!”

We bolted down the stairs, the sound of chaos erupting behind us as more men stormed the house. Nikolai’s voice crackled in my earpiece, frantic. “What the hell is going on in there?”

“We’re coming out!” Petrik barked, shoving the front door open.

The cold night air hit me like a slap as we ran toward the car, our footsteps pounding against the gravel. Nikolai was already behind the wheel, the engine running.

“Drive!” Petrik yelled as we threw ourselves into the backseat.

The tires screeched as Nikolai floored it, the house disappearing into the distance. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

“What the hell happened in there?” Nikolai demanded, his eyes darting between us in the rearview mirror.

“They showed up,” Petrik said, his voice tight. “We barely made it out.”

“But we got what we needed,” I added, holding up the folder. “This… this is it.”

Petrik glanced at me, his expression softening slightly. “You did good in there, Lia.”

I let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline still coursing through me. “Yeah, well… I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Petrik reached over, squeezing my hand. “It’s not over yet.”

He was right. This was just the beginning. We had the evidence, but using it would mean making ourselves targets in a way we hadn’t been before. Diana, Grekov, Elena—they were all circling, waiting for us to make our move.

And when we did, there would be no going back.