Page 50 of His Demands

I take the device, examining it closely. It’s smaller than I expected, no larger than a coin and looks like a tie pin. "Understood. What exactly do you need Boris to say to make the charges stick?"

"We need details about the money laundering operations," Hargrove explains. "Specifics about accounts, methods, any partners he's working with. And if he threatens you or discusses any other illegal activities, that's a bonus."

Fyodor interjects, "And if he suspects anything?"

Hargrove meets his gaze. "Then we move in immediately. But that's a last resort. We need this to be clean, by the book. We can't afford any mistakes."

I feel the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders. "I'll get you what you need," I say, determination steeling my voice.

Hargrove nods, his expression grim. "Remember, Ivan, your safety is paramount."

I look at Fyodor, then back at Hargrove. "I understand."

As Fyodor, Deputy Director Hargrove, and I step out of the basement, I can't help but feel a pang of unease at leaving Julie behind. I secured the cabin meticulously, ensuring that every possible measure of safety was in place, but worry for Julie's protection still lingers like a shadow.

“Let’s get moving,” Hargrove says. “I parked inconspicuously down the way, on the other side of the woods.”

The evening is cool and overcast, the sky a uniform slate gray. Fyodor, walking beside me, wears a deep frown, his unease with the plan evident. "I don't like this, Ivan," he mutters, his voice low.

I nod, understanding his concerns. "Neither do I, but we don't have much choice."

The three of us make our way through the dense woods surrounding the cabin, our footsteps crunching into the thick carpet of fresh fallen snow. The conversation is intense, focused on the details of the plan to entrap Boris.

Suddenly, the distant sound of a car engine roaring to life breaks the natural stillness of the woods. My head snaps up, a frown forming as the meaning behind the unexpected noise registers. Something’s not right. No one should be leaving until the next shift of guards arrives.

I instinctively reach for my phone, only to realize with a sinking feeling that I've left it back at the cabin. "Fyodor," I call out, my voice tense, "Call the guards. Now."

Fyodor quickly pulls out his phone, dialing the number with swift, precise movements. I turn back toward the cabin, my strides long and urgent. Deputy Director Hargrove's voice follows me. "Ivan, what's happening?"

"I’m not sure but it isn’t good."

As we hasten back through the trees, Fyodor's voice cuts through the air, sharp and alarmed. "Ivan, it's Julie. She’s taken off."

A cold dread washes over me, a fear like I've never known clutching at my chest. Without a second thought, I snatch the phone from Fyodor's hand. "What the fuck?" I bark into the receiver. "Why did you let her leave? Did she say where she’s going?"

The guard on the other end stammers out a response, but it doesn’t matter. Julie is out there, alone and exposed to the danger we've been trying so hard to shield her from. My mind races with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

I quicken my pace, practically running now. Hargrove and Fyodor are close behind, their footsteps heavy in the underbrush. The urgency of the situation is clear to all of us.

"Ivan, we need to stick to the plan," Hargrove insists, trying to keep his voice level despite the obvious emergency.

But my focus is on one thing and one thing only—Julie. Everything else fades into the background, insignificant compared to her safety. "The plan can wait," I snap back. "Julie is out there alone, and God knows what could happen to her."

I'm calculating my next move, the various scenarios playing out in my mind.

"Get your car," I order Fyodor, my voice commanding. "We need to find her before anyone else does."

Fyodor nods, a grim determination on his face as he hurries to comply. Hargrove follows, his expression tight with concern.

My grip tightens on the phone as I listen to the guard's explanation, a simmering rage building inside me with every word he utters. His voice, laced with a mixture of confusion and helplessness, does nothing to quell the storm brewing within me.

"So she just drove away?" I hiss into the phone, my tone sharp as a blade. "And you watched her leave?"

"We were following your orders, Mr. Stepanov. We were patrolling the grounds, maintaining the perimeter. We didn't expect—"

I cut him off, my voice rising in anger. " You're supposed to be protecting her! What's the point of you being here if you let her just drive off?"

There's a pause, the guard's voice faltering under the weight of my fury. "I'm sorry, sir. We didn't think she'd leave. By the time we realized what was happening, it was too late."

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