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I havemy most trusted men scouring the city, searching every street corner and alley. The tech team is hacking into city surveillance and tapping into traffic cameras. I’ve combed through the list of last night's duty personnel. Maybe I missed a sign, a shift in allegiance. Someone who had access and motive to take Kira. I’m doing all I can to find her, but it still feels like I’m missing an obvious piece of the puzzle.
My eyes drift towards the window, my heart heavy.
Is Kira scared right now? Harmed? Is the life growing inside of her safe? These thoughts hammer at my brain, but I shove them down and focus on what I need to do.
The sound of footsteps and my office door opening draws my attention.
Pavel stands in front of me, face set in stone. A wave of confusion hits me as he holds up a pregnancy test. "Discovered this near the back entrance of the west wing."
I shake my head, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. “I don’t understand.”
“This is a third test that Nadya is not aware of. I confirmed it with her—she swears there are only two.” He swallows hard.
I sit straight up in my chair, a sick feeling growing in my gut. “What are you saying?”
“After I got stitched up, Nadya said she was going to church to pray for Kira.” His jaw hardens. “She left through the west-side back door. Unusual for her, wouldn’t you say?”
He’s right—Nadya doesn’t like to drive. She prefers to take a chauffeured car that would pick her up from the main entrance in front of the home. It’s a privilege afforded to her as my personal assistant.
A strange sensation knots my insides, suggesting a truth I don't want to face.
The disjointed pieces fall into place: Nadya's resentment towards Kira, her withholding of information from Boris, her claims that Kira had run away.
Damn. I've been blind to what's been right before me.
Rising, I'm driven by a fresh sense of urgency.
Pavel remains expressionless. "What can I do to help?"
"Tell Viktor and Roman," I respond. “There’s something I need to do.”
I make a beeline for Nadya's room, the cold feeling in my gut growing stronger with each step.
Finding the door locked, I growl. Too impatient to get a key, I draw the Glock from my waistband, take aim at the doorknob, and fire, blasting it apart. Metal and wood fragments scatter as the door bursts open, revealing Nadya’s meticulously arranged room.
I start with her desk, flipping through papers, checking drawers. They’re filled with neatly labeled files—nothing unusual for someone in her position. Moving to her closet, I push aside clothes, feeling along the back wall, searching for any hidden compartments. I don't know what I'm searching for, butI trust that I’ll know when I find it. I check under her bed, behind paintings, even in the bathroom.
Nothing.
I sit on the corner of her bed and take a breath. Have I lost my mind tearing apart Nadya’s room on a hunch? My eyes drift around the space, landing on a shelf above her dresser.
It’s a ceramic teddy bear that catches my attention. A small memento gifted to Irina and me on Ilya’s birth. What the hell is it doing here? Like many things from my past, this should have been destroyed after Ilya’s death.
I stand to get a closer look. Beside the bear is a decorative box. I reach for it. Opening its lid, the air whooshes from my lungs. Inside are fragments of my past: silver cufflinks Irina bought me, a pair of leather gloves gifted to me on my birthday, and—the most shocking discovery—the miniature wooden ship that Ilya loved.
I’m knocked to my knees.
This is more than a morbid collection. It's an obsession, a twisted timeline of my life that she's been secretly hoarding.
The Zippo.
It could only have been her.
Before I fully register my actions, I'm storming into Viktor's office. Viktor, Pavel, and Roman all turn to face me, their expressions grave.
Roman gestures towards the monitors. “You won’t fucking believe this.”
I freeze, taking in the image on the screen. Even zoomed in and with shitty resolution, it’s clear what I’m looking at—Nadya pushing Kira into the trunk of a car.
