Roen Architecture wasn’t just a firm. It was a front. One of many. Clean lines. Glass offices. Prestige. And behind it—children moved like merchandise. Files I hadn’t opened in years. Names I wished were already dead.
It was the same network. The same hell.
And Mila was inside it.
I went completely still.
For a long time, I just stared at the folder, my pulse pounding in my ears, my body reacting like it was under attack. Cold sweat. Rigid muscles. Rage so sharp it tasted metallic.
She had walked straight into the viper’s nest.
I didn’t know if it was coincidence or fate. I didn’t care. All I knew was that she didn’t understand where she was standing—and that ignorance could kill her.
I told myself to stay away. That going back into her life would ruin it. That I was bad for her.
But this wasn’t about what I wanted anymore.
I couldn’t send a letter. I couldn’t tell her the truth without shattering her world.You were trafficked. I’m your brother.
She’d think I was insane.
But doing nothing was not an option.
So I began to close doors.
Ukraine would survive without me for a while. I tightened the structure. Cut loose anything unstable. Put Sashko in place withexplicit instructions. He didn’t argue, but he made it clear it was temporary. He had a family—two kids now—and that kind of responsibility had never been part of his plans.
But this wasn’t just going to be a reunion. It was going to be war.
Because the filth didn’t die with Roman. It metastasized. Spread across borders like a disease—changing faces, forging identities, laundering horror through clean banks and offshore vaults. U.S. was part of it, and I knew damn well that some of the same men responsible for Mila’s disappearance still operated there. This wasn’t just a network. It was rot handed down through generations.
I didn’t pretend I could fix the world. I wasn’t that delusional. But I could burn the branches that touched my blood. There were still children in cages. Still girls sold like cattle. Still monsters fattening themselves on pain. And I was going to gut them from the inside.
It was time. I was going to meet her—my sister—the last fragile thread tying me to something human.Twenty-two years later, I would finally face her.
I am not noble. I am not selfless.
She might be the only thing left that can reach me.
I want her in my world. And if it costs me everything, I’ll pay it.
