Page 132 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

Mikhail studies me with the serious little face that looks far too much like Dmitri’s, then gives a small nod. “Okay. Mama can help.”

Dmitri looks at Kathryn. “You need rest, movement, and some time outside this room.”

Kathryn’s mouth tightens. “That sounds easy when you say it.”

“It isn’t,” Dmitri says. “I know that.”

Mikhail leans against her leg, and Kathryn’s hand moves over his hair.

Dmitri looks from her to Mikhail. “I’ll ask Elena to arrange a nanny for the north wing. I didn’t do it earlier because I thought Mikhail might not accept anyone new.”

Kathryn gives him a tired smile. “That part still holds. A nanny can come, but I’m staying with him until he’s safe.”

Mikhail wraps one arm around her knee. “Auntie K stays.”

Dmitri gives him a short nod. “Then Auntie K stays.”

Dmitri rises, and the man who came back from the hunt returns to his face. “I need you in the secure annex,” he says, looking at me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Oleg talked,” Dmitri says, and whatever warmth had touched his face is gone. “Patrick is alive.”

In the secure annex, Yuri has files open on the screens. Kirill sits at his station and doesn’t look up when we enter. Abramov and Dima stand near the main console with the faces of men who would rather solve the whole mess with a shovel than routes, passwords, and encryption.

Dmitri lays out what he has without wasting words. Patrick stole from Volkov. He used Morozov’s shells to hide the money and kept Oleg inside Volkov logistics to keep the paperwork clean. It was a trap. If Volkov grabbed too fast, Morozov could point at the mess and make Elena’s charity circle look like cover for dirty aid money.

I became collateral in case the men whose paperwork and systems Patrick used decided to collect debts.

I don’t flinch because I’m past that.

Dmitri says, “Vostok Meridian is where Morozov’s people clean up sensitive problems. Men disappear from files there. Phones get wiped. Names change. Oak and Tron guard the site.”

“Of course,” Abramov says. “Morozov’s men can’t always show their faces.”

Dmitri says, “Patrick knows enough to hurt Morozov if we reach him first.”

I grip the back of a chair. “We can’t chase him.”

Dima turns his head. “He’s already running.”

“Patrick loves that,” I say, looking at the route map. “He loves runs, chases, and being the prize everyone fights over.”

Dmitri watches the screen, his face locked in thought. He paces once across the annex, then turns back. “We need him to come out.”

Abramov folds his arms. “For what?”

“For Mikhail,” I say. “Or what Patrick thinks is Mikhail.”

Dmitri’s eyes cut to mine. “No.”

I hold up one hand. “Listen first.”

His jaw works once, but he doesn’t stop me.

“We create a fake transfer route through an old channel Patrick may trust,” I say, turning to Yuri.

Yuri leans closer. “A transfer route?”