Viktor pauses. “That is all the jeweler saw.”
So she needs money, but she is still careful.
Good.
“Where did she go after?”
“He doesn’t know. But one of his boys saw her walk toward the old pharmacy block.”
That gives us the next thread.
By nightfall, we know she has rented a small room above a closed pharmacy under the name Anna. By morning, we know she’s working in the kitchen of a drive-through place called Misha’s.
When Viktor tells me that, I don’t answer for several seconds.
Anya Sokolova behind a fryer. The image is so absurd I nearly dismiss it. Then I think of her pride. Her ruined wedding. Her father’s fear. Dmitri’s carelessness.
No, not absurd.
Desperate.
There’s a difference.
I should leave it there. I have the information I need. She’s alive. She’s hidden, badly but not stupidly. She’s earning cash. She has not yet fallen into the hands of my father’s men.
That should be enough.
It isn’t.
That evening, one of my men calls again. “She left work with another girl,” he says. “They’re heading to Venera.”
My mood turns cold at once. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I stand before he finishes speaking.
Venera is not mine, but I know the place. Everyone with eyes knows the place. It survives in the gaps respectable men create for themselves. Bad music, cheap liquor, private rooms upstairs, girls who come in needing money and leave owing more than they made. It’s the kind of club that pretends not to sell women while making the arrangements in the hallway.
Anya has no idea where she’s going.
Or maybe she does, and she’s more desperate than I thought.
I go myself.
Viktor doesn’t question me in the car. He knows better. The city passes dark and wet outside the windows, neon blurring across the glass. I sit in silence, jaw tight, thinking of her in that restaurant corridor. White dress. Defensive little mouth. My mother’s ring on her hand.
I don’t know where the ring is now.
Sold, hidden, thrown away, still with her.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter.
That is a lie.
Venera squats between a betting shop and a closed currency exchange, the red sign above the entrance flickering like it’s too tired to stay alive. Two guards stand outside smoking, both of them pretending to be harder than they are.
We don’t use the front. The side door opens the moment Viktor speaks to the right man.
