"Get up." His voice is emotionless. "You're making a phone call."
I stand on shaking legs. "What kind of call?"
"The kind that saves your brother and kills Patrick." He gestures for me to follow. "Move."
I do. Up the stairs on legs that barely work. Through hallways I used to clean. Into his office, still destroyed from whatever rampage he went on after I confessed.
The desk is upright now, cleared except for a phone. A burner, different from mine.
"Sit." He points at the chair.
I sit.
He places the phone in front of me, then pulls out a piece of paper covered in his handwriting. "You're going to call Patrick. Tell him exactly what's written here. Nothing more, nothing less. Understand?"
I scan the script. It's detailed information about tonight's supply run: route, timing, and the number of guards. All false, I assume. Bait for a trap.
"He'll know I'm lying." My voice comes out hoarse from screaming earlier. "He'll hear it in my voice."
"Then better be fucking convincing." Lev's expression doesn't change. "Because if he doesn't buy it, your brother dies. And then you die. In that order."
He means it.
Shit
I pick up the phone with trembling hands. Dial the number I've memorized but hoped never to use again.
Patrick answers on the third ring. "Valerie. Cutting it close, aren't you? Why must you always wait till it’s your deadline? You know I’m not a very patient man."
"I know. I'm sorry. It's been complicated."
"Complicated how?" His voice sharpens. Suspicious already.
"Mr. Volkov's been paranoid. Changing schedules, increasing security. I couldn't get close enough to verify anything until tonight." The lies flow more easily than they should. "But I have what you want."
Across the desk, Lev watches me with those dead eyes. No expression. No reaction. Just watching.
"Go on."
I read from the script. "Supplies run tonight. Three trucks are leaving the east warehouse at 2 AM. Route takes them through the industrial district—Seventh Avenue to the docks. Four guards per truck, plus Mikhail in the lead vehicle."
"And Volkov?"
"Will be in the second truck. He’s personally overseeing this operation because the shipment is high-value." I swallow hard. "Weapons. Military-grade. Worth millions."
Patrick is quiet for a moment. I can almost hear him calculating, weighing whether to believe me.
"You've been radio silent for two weeks." His voice drops lower. Sounding ominous. "Ignoring my calls. Letting your brother suffer. And now suddenly you have exactly what I need? Sounds suspicious."
My heart hammers. "I was trying to find the right moment. Trying to get close enough without raising suspicion."
"Or you fell in love." He says it like a joke, but there's an edge underneath. "Got so wrapped up in playing house with the Pakhan that you forgot whose side you're on. Maybe started thinking good dick was worth sacrificing your baby brother for."
Lev's eyes narrow slightly. Watching my reaction.
"No." The word comes out too sharp. I force myself to soften it. "God, no. I would never—I could never fall for a man like Lev Volkov. He's a monster. A killer. Everything I hate."
I watch Lev's face as I say it. See his jaw clench. See his eyes harden even more, like stone turning to ice. See something flash through his expression too fast to name, but it looks like hurt.
