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Erik leans back, his eyes fixed on the blueprint. He shakes his head and mutters, “You think she’d prefer a garden? Miniature roses?”
For a fleeting moment, Dimitri and I exchange glances, then turn back to Erik, each of us grappling with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, silently asking ourselves what the hell he’s going on about.
“You sure about the dollhouse for Yulia?” Erik goes on. “I mean, it’s not too much?”
I glance at Dimitri, who’s stifling a laugh. “Really, Erik?” I ask. “We’re planning an attack, and you’re worried about a dollhouse garden?”
“It’s a very important dollhouse,” Erik responds, his face dead serious.
Dimitri bursts into laughter.
“And here I thought you only cared about guns and explosions,” I joke.
Erik raises an eyebrow. “Who says you can’t appreciate both?” He rubs his hands together, his voice tinged with wicked satisfaction. “By the way, Ivan just messaged. Our men are already mingling with the circus crew, slithering their way in. The game’s afoot.”
Dimitri’s voice drips with venom. “And how many packs of Aleks’s dogs are we expecting?”
“Three groups,” Erik replies. “Eight cars.”
“Eight cars, three groups. Bastards are playing it safe,” Dimitri mutters.
“And they should,” Erik counters, his eyes glinting with anticipation. “They know who they’re up against.”
“Make sure our men know their targets,” I instruct, my mind racing with the details of the plan.
Erik’s smirk turns into a knowing grin. “We won’t waste a single bullet. We know what we’re doing.”
“And the dollhouse?” Dimitri can’t resist asking, a teasing smile on his face.
“Safely packed away,” Erik answers, a hint of pride in his voice. “Some things are just more important than bullets and explosions.”
The low hum of the bunker’s private lift is a sudden intrusion, and we all turn as the doors slide open, revealing the tall figure of Svetlana.
“Svetlana,” Dimitri acknowledges, his eyes flickering with concern. “What’s happening up there? Any movement from Anya?”
“Anya’s been to Yulia’s room after sneaking from the kitchen,” she reports, voice flat. “Couldn’t catch what she said to Sophia, but it was a threat.”
“Fucking bitch,” I growl. “Review the exit strategy with us,” I ask as I glance between Svetlana and the map she’s just placed on the table.
Svetlana indicates a location. “A hidden exit that leads to a discreet airfield. There’s a helicopter ready for Yulia if we need it.”
Dimitri speaks up, “Twenty minutes, give or take.”
I think for a moment. “So, we have an escape plan if things don’t go our way?”
“Not for all of us,” Dimitri mentions, “But we’ve always agreed Yulia’s safety is paramount.”
I nod slowly. “But now, we can’t let Anya be suspicious.”
“She won’t,” Svetlana assures me.
Dimitri nods. “Using the helicopter is our last option.” His worry is written all over him. “Is Sophia ready for this?” he asks, his voice colored with doubt.
“She’s as ready as she’ll ever be,” I reply, knowing Sophia’s strength but feeling that nagging doubt myself. “Don’t worry, Dimitri. She won’t let Anya get to her.”
Just then, Svetlana’s walkie-talkie springs to life. “Arrival of Mr. Jameson Locke, Mrs. Karina Vance, Sir Reginald Thornhill…” The names keep coming, but I’m not listening anymore.
“It’s time,” I announce, moving toward the exit. “We need to get Yulia.”
