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“OnlyVolkov,” the guard repeats, pulling his gun out.
Kolya reaches into his holster, to bring out his own weapon, no doubt, but I shake my head at him. I follow Sergei’s guard up the stairs toward his office, but before I go inside, the guard steps between me and the door. “Your gun.”
This is the first time I’ve been asked to leave my weapon at the door. While I figured Sergei didn’t call me in for tea, if he’s going as far as disarming me, this might as well be my death certificate.
I reach beneath my jacket, retrieve my gun, and give it to the guard. He searches me for any hidden weapons before he knocks on the door and opens it for me.
It takes me a moment to walk in. If it were a few years ago, I wouldn’t give a fuck about being summoned, but if it were a few years ago, I wouldn’t have let my system fail me. I wouldn’t have been illogical.
I wouldn’t have been…alive.
Because even though I performed the act of living before, I’ve never truly lived until Lia came into my life.
I meant what I told Kolya earlier, Lia is worth failing my system, digging my own grave, and putting myself in this unfavorable position. I would do it all over again if it means having her.
The guard follows me inside, then closes the door and stands in front of it in case I try to escape.
Not that I would.
Sergei sits in the lounge area with Igor and Vladimir across from him, their expressions as hard as granite. Four of their guards are in erect positions by the balcony.
I stop before Sergei and don’t bother greeting him. “You asked for me?”
“Yes, I asked for you.” Sergei grips the armrest of his chair tight. “Don’t you think you have some explaining to do, Volkov?”
“What type of explaining?”
“Richard’s death.” Vladimir stands and stares at me. While we’re about the same height, he’s bulkier and has a more piercing stare. “I know you killed him.”
“Proof?”
“Recordings. You probably didn’t know that he secretly recorded everything that happened in his office.”
He couldn’t have. If he did, my hackers would’ve found out when they cleaned up his digital files afterward.
Unless…
“How did you find them?” I ask.
“That doesn’t matter, the content does.”
“How did you find them, Vladimir? If you had before now, you would’ve come forward with it, but I assume you got outside help. Someone sent you those files recently.”
“Why the fuck does that matter?”
“Whosent them to you?”
“You’re in no position to question me, Volkov. It’s the other way around. Why don’t you tell us why you killed our candidate for mayor?”
“I will if you tell me who sent you the recordings and how.”
“Or I can just kill you without hearing your explanation.”
“Tell him, Vladimir,” Sergei says after watching the exchange silently.
The man in front of me scrunches his nose at being ordered to do the very thing he has no desire to do. “They were emailed to me.”
“By whom?”
