Chapter 1

1

Snow blanketed the mountains of West Virginia. A blizzard had swept through the east coast three days ago and dropped sixteen inches of powder, but the warming trend had turned the once pristine cover into a slushy mess. The whiteness reflected brightly, not only from the ground, but also from the snow-laden limbs of skeletal trees and evergreens. For Viktor Baran, these conditions were not ideal for extraction because the concealment of a night incursion was decreased, but their target, “Black Wolf,” was running out of time.

It was by sheer luck that the human intel (HUMINT) provided by the CIA became their best lead because the Guardians’ digital network turned up shit. Who would have thought that the perpetrators would hole up in an abandoned coal mine? It certainly didn’t look abandoned now with a generator cranking loudly and disrupting the stillness of the January evening.

“We’re in position,” Derek Lockwood’s voice crackled through comms.

Viktor raised his binoculars to do final recon on the entrance of the mine and spied Derek and two other Guardians blending with their surroundings in their white camouflage gear and light-colored assault rifles.

“Go in hot,” Viktor ordered. “In three, two…” He pressed the trigger to disable the generator, causing the equipment to falter and cut off. The mine was plunged into darkness.

Derek threw a stun grenade into the mouth of the tunnel and barrelled in after the explosion. It wasn’t long before an exchange of gunfire broke through their communications channel.

Viktor loped down the hill and slammed against the side of the open mine shaft with his assault rifle at the ready. The barrage of gunfire was intermittent now. He did a quick check before following the other men in. Using his night-vision goggles, he navigated down the ancient cavernous railroad path.

“Talk to me, Lockwood,” Viktor muttered when the shooting stopped.

“We’re clear,” Lockwood replied. “Hostiles are down. No twenty on Black Wolf.”

Viktor reached the intersection of three tunnels. At the junction was an open space where boxes of supplies were stacked against a craggy wall. An inverted wooden crate served as a table where electric shock instruments were laid out.

His mouth tightened.

A broken bottle of whiskey was on the floor along with two men bearing kill shots to the head. Blood was fast pooling around them. Viktor glanced to his right in time to see Manning nudge another body to its back and check for signs of life. The Guardian looked at Viktor and shook his head.

Damn, Lockwood went on a rampage .

“I think I found him.” Derek’s tone held a grim excitement. “I’m breaking the locks.”

“Where are you?”

“East tunnel, about thirty yards in. ”

Viktor jogged down the right tunnel, leaving Manning and Nathan Stark to stand guard as well as pack up any information they could gather from the scene. He heard Derek snap a round to get into the cell where the hostiles had kept their man for three weeks.

An unusual dread gripped his consciousness with what they might find.

As he rounded the bend into the small makeshift prison, the stench hit his nostrils, and Viktor’s gut clenched, hoping that they were not too late, and if their man were alive, he was not beyond saving—physically or mentally.

Derek lit an LED lamp and set it on the ground, illuminating the lone occupant of the cell who was sitting stoically on the hard stone floor. Viktor lifted his night-vision goggles and exhaled heavily. The person they were rescuing was almost unrecognizable because he had lost close to fifteen pounds if Viktor were to guess.

His trousers were torn and filthy, and he was barefoot. Viktor suspected that the ridiculously stretched-out knit sweater their man was wearing hid evidence of torture. With his grimy, dark hair, and full beard, the man looked like a typical vagrant, but his slate blue eyes, though vacant at the moment, unmistakably belonged to one person.

Jack McCord.

“Are they all dead?” Jack’s raspy voice was so chillingly calm that Viktor raised a brow.

“I think we got them all, buddy,” Derek replied quietly as he helped his friend stand up.

“You’re not sure?”

“Jack—”

“Because I want to fucking gut every last one of them involved in killing my wife.”

Three weeks earlier

Viktor paced his office, phone to his ear, as he waited for Maia to answer her phone. Tension stiffened his spine. Something about this mission had spooked him, and that was a rare occurrence. Besides, it was just bodyguard detail for Christ’s sake , not an assault on a terrorist camp.

“Pierce.”

“Why weren’t you answering your phone?” Viktor asked.

“Jeez, Viktor,” Maia Pierce McCord chided him. “I was on the phone with Jack. My man misses me and wouldn’t let me hang up.”

Viktor grunted.

“So what’s up?” Maia continued when he didn’t answer.

“Just checking up on you. Are you guys ready to leave for the airport?”

“Just about. Stark’s escorting Ibrahim Nasir to the limo now.”

“Summit went okay?”

“I think an agreement has been reached regarding the chemical weapons,” Maia replied. “Hey—gotta go, Manning’s signaling me that the convoy’s heading out.”

Viktor struggled to tell her to be careful. “Katerina—”

But Maia already hung up.

Cursing himself for his moment of sentimentality, Viktor strode out of his office and headed to the datacenter where Tim Burns was busy setting up the feeds for the convoy’s route. His lead analyst didn’t look happy and was relieved when Viktor showed up.

“Thank Christ,” Tim said. “Viktor, would you please call someone at DCRI and tell them we need access to their street surveillance? They’ve been stonewalling us.”

“Fucking French Intelligence,” Viktor muttered, whipping out his phone to call his contact. “It’s Baran. What the fuck is going on? Your people are denying us access to your security feeds . . . well, fix the screw up.”

“Try it again after a few minutes,” Viktor told Tim. “Same code.” Switching his attention to Tim’s assistant, Holly Nolan, he said, “Are you keeping communications open with the team?”

“Yes, they’re heading out from the 8 th arrondissement,” the twenty-two-year-old analyst replied. Holly was as nerdy as they came, sporting a pixie-style haircut and wearing horn-rimmed glasses. She was too easily frazzled to work at the datacenter during high-risk missions, but Viktor believed, after another year with AGS, he could instill some nerves of steel in her. “They’re turning right on Rue de Courcelles.”

“Put them up on speaker,” Viktor instructed. “Tim, what the hell is taking so long?”

Tim shot him an annoyed look. “Feeds are coming up now.”

A limousine was shown between two black SUVs. There were two motorcycle escorts guiding the convoy of Ibrahim Nasir—the whistleblower of Syria’s use of chemical weapons against civilians, and a possible contender to unite the opposition that could challenge the ruling Ba’ath Party in Syria. Nathan Stark and Rebecca Olsen were the Guardians in the lead car. Maia was with Nasir and his wife in the limo while Steve Manning and John Edmunds brought up the rear. Five Guardians were protecting the man that could bring peace to Syria.

“Maia, do you copy?” Viktor asked.

“I’m here, Viktor.”

Viktor turned away from the screen momentarily to fiddle with some communications settings. “Stark, how are the roads from your POV—”

“What . . . Fuck!” Tim shouted.

Viktor’s eyes swung back to the widescreen in time to watch an RPG hit the front of the limo, lifting the vehicle’s front a couple of feet before it slammed back on the ground.

“Under fire! Under fire!” Manning shouted through comms. “Maia, do you copy?”

“Shit, masked hostiles incoming at three o’ clock,” Stark warned.

The lead SUV backed into the limo. Stark and Olsen scrambled out of their vehicle to defend their convoy against the advancing gunmen.

“RPG!”

Stark and Olsen sprinted to the sidewalk and hit the deck as their SUV blew up from a direct hit.

“Take that RPG out!” Viktor shouted. “Maia, do you copy?”

“On it,” Edmunds said. The Guardian took aim from within the remaining SUV and squeezed out several shots. “Got him.” Edmunds was always as cool as a cucumber.

“Stark, are you guys okay? Maia, damn it, report!” Manning yelled again.

Viktor stood back as he watched the mayhem unfold on screen. Tim was busy panning the cameras closer. The exchange of assault rifle fire was deafening and drowned out some of the communication.

“We’re okay.”

Viktor closed his eyes briefly when he heard Maia’s voice come over comms.

“We’re sustaining heavy gunfire,” Maia added. “Don’t know how long the bullet-proof shields will hold. Nasir’s wife is having a breakdown. Could you guys maybe hurry up?”

“We got this,” Stark broke in.

Viktor watched the rest of the Guardians methodically take down the six gunmen who concentrated their efforts on shooting up the limo. Something was not adding up. This was too easy. After a few more minutes, the last of the gunmen went down, but Viktor’s uneasiness only escalated .

Sirens wailed at a distance as the Paris Police were alerted of the attack. Maia stepped out of the limo and signaled for Manning to take Nasir and his wife to the remaining functional vehicle. Stark and Olsen provided a protective circle around the Syrian couple while Maia and Edmunds had their assault rifles shouldered as they scanned the area.

They were sitting ducks.

“Talk to us, HQ,” Maia said. “Who are these people?”

She looked down, nudged one of the bodies, and bent over to pull off the mask, revealing a man with olive skin and dark hair. Just then, a muffled pop sounded audibly on the comm channel as something struck the pavement behind her.

“What the fuck?” Maia muttered, quickly straightening up in alarm. However, another pop echoed ominously and more than a few gasps were heard as everyone watched Maia jerk back and hit the ground.

“Sniper!”

“Shit. Sniper!”

Edmunds quickly pulled Maia behind the limo. Manning pushed Nasir and his wife into the SUV and took position behind it.

“Stay with me, Maia,” Edmunds said urgently.

Viktor was breathing hard. “How bad is it?”

“Gut shot. Armor piercing round. Damn it, Maia, you fucking stay with me!” Edmunds was screaming now.

“Goddamn it!” Viktor cursed. He hustled back to his office to grab his CIA-issued secure phone known as the Sec-phone.

He punched a number on his speed dial. A female voice answered immediately.

“Shit’s going down right now,” Viktor said.

“I’m watching it on live feed.”

“You need to mobilize Grave Digger.”

“Already did.”

“I . . . thank you, Marissa.”

Viktor ended the call and ran back to the datacenter .

“What’s happening? Were there more shots fired?” he demanded.

“We’re losing her!” Stark roared over comms. “Damn it, Tim, where’s that ambulance?”

Two police vehicles screeched to a halt just short of the attack site and officers disembarked to initiate crowd control. A few minutes later, an ambulance squeezed between the limo and the line of dead bodies littering the streets.

Two EMTs exited the vehicle, one heading straight for Maia while the other went to the back of the ambulance to retrieve a gurney.

“She’s not breathing. There’s no pulse,” Stark’s ragged voice informed the first responder.

The EMT took out a syringe and injected Maia with an unknown substance.

“What the hell is he doing?” Tim asked.

Viktor kept his arms crossed to remain calm, but his mind was echoing Tim’s words.

“Shouldn’t you be giving her fucking CPR?” Stark demanded.

The EMT started a couple of chest compressions and checked for breathing.

“Fuck!” Stark shoved the EMT. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

A police officer came by and warned Stark in accented English to stand down, or he’d be removed from the scene.

“Damn it,” Viktor muttered, raking his fingers through his hair.

“This is not happening.” Tim stood up, gripping his head with both hands and staring helplessly at the screen. “Viktor, do something.”

The EMT shook his head at Stark. His face paled in disbelief.

“You didn’t do a goddamned thing!” This time it was Edmunds shouting. A few more police officers surrounded the tense scene.

Stark tried to stop the EMT from covering Maia’s body with a white sheet and was tackled by two police officers in the process. Manning had to intervene, grabbing the younger Guardian back while Edmunds was up in the face of another French officer. Maia’s body was loaded on a gurney, covered by a white sheet with her blood slowly seeping through.

“Shit. Viktor, do something,” Tim choked as he turned his anguished eyes on him.

“What do you want me to do? She’s gone,” Viktor said tonelessly. “Manning, get the team back into gear. You’re in charge now.”

“What the hell, Viktor?” Stark said. “Maia—is—dead. How can you be so cold about this shit?”

“Listen up, Stark. We’re responsible for a man who could end the clusterfuck in Syria,” Viktor said. “Do your fucking job. Because if you fail to bring Nasir back safely to his country, Maia’s death will be in vain. Am I making myself clear?”

“Copy that, Viktor,” Manning replied gruffly. There was no response from the rest of the Guardians, but Viktor watched them make their way back to the remaining SUV.

“Jack’s on hold,” Holly piped in.

Viktor sighed in resignation. A pain inside him was threatening to split his chest wide open. “Tell him that the convoy was attacked and we have no updates. Have him come in. I’ll tell him personally that his wife is dead.”

Tim took in a ragged breath, trying to hold back a sob, but failing to stop his tears from falling.

“Tim, are you going to keep it together?” Viktor asked sharply. “The team needs you on top of this. We have no idea who’s behind the attack. A sniper’s still at large. No way is this over.”

His analyst nodded, not looking at him .

Viktor returned to his office and sank into his chair feeling as if he’d aged fifty years. Everyone thought he was an unfeeling son of a bitch. But there was one person who knew how deeply he felt, and was the same person who could see through all his bullshit.

He punched her number on the Sec-phone.

“We have her,” Marissa said.

He asked the one question that mattered. “Will she live?”

Present day

“Maia’s alive.”

Jack struggled to understand Viktor’s words, thinking that he was hallucinating the entire rescue, that he was still locked away in this shithole after a grueling electroshock session that damned near cracked his ribs.

He reached out and grabbed Viktor by his throat, backing him against the wall.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jack snarled, bringing his face close to Viktor’s. His vocal chords were strained—three weeks of torture did a number on them. “I saw the footage…they covered her body with a fucking sheet.” For the first time in days, the back of his eyes stung. Four days after his abduction, his captors showed him the video of his wife’s death. The sick bastards taped everything; from the assault on the limo to Maia taking a gut shot, and to the one image that he couldn’t wipe out of his head—a white sheet being lowered on her beautiful, lifeless face. The thought of never seeing her again managed to accomplish what days of torture couldn’t do—break him down enough to lose it. Then numbness replaced the crazed grief he was feeling, angering his captors enough to beat the shit out of him when he had shown no empathy. How could he when it felt like his soul had detached from his body ?

“That was operation Grave Digger,” Viktor told him. “I’ll explain later what it is and why it was done. But for now, it’s enough for you to know Maia’s been in a medically-induced coma for the past three weeks. They’re about to bring her out of it. Figured it’s best if I rescued your ass before she woke up. If she knew you were taken, nothing would stop her from going after you and busting her stitches.”

Jack let Viktor go and resumed walking up the tunnel. She’s alive . Elation hit him, and it was a struggle not to buckle to his knees and weep in relief. He could feel their eyes on him, watching him cautiously and gauging how broken he was. His body was stiff, and his ribs hurt like hell, but they were not cracked or broken. His tormentors were careful to aim their blows on his torso, giving him just enough pain, but stopping short of breaking his ribs. The electric shock was worse, not because of the burn marks it left, but the seizing and spasming were the worst sensations and pain no one could bear. But bore them he did. Because he swore to himself, he would survive this and avenge Maia.

“We were waiting for some ransom note or demand, but it never came,” Derek said. “We immediately increased security around your parents and Brett, just in case this was against the McCords. Especially since they had nabbed you the same day Maia was shot. What did they want?”

“Codes to the AGS database.”

The only people who had the codes were Viktor and him.

“Fuck.” Viktor stopped walking. Jack suspected if he wasn’t as weak as a newborn kitten, the blond man would have slammed him against the wall. “Did you break?”

“Fuck no,” Jack bit out. “I thought they’d killed my wife, Viktor. You think I’d give them the satisfaction of getting what they wanted from me?”

They continued walking until they reached the junction. Nathan’s eyes widened in shock. “Fuck man, you look like shit. Did they feed you at all? ”

The minimum to keep me alive for torture , Jack thought grimly.

“Here. We got you some clothes.” Derek handed Jack a change of clothing.

“Are we heading straight to the hospital?” Jack took off the ratty sweater his captors gave him. It was scratchy as hell, but along with the wool blanket they had mercifully given him, it had kept him warm enough. He ignored the cursing from everyone when they saw the marks on his body.

“Uh, sorry, man, but you stink,” Derek informed him. “You don’t want to knock Maia back to sleep with the scent of eau de piss .”

Jack grinned for the first time in weeks. “You have a point. Although, I’m pretty sure I didn’t piss on myself; at least I didn’t think I did.”

“Don’t worry, man, we won’t tell,” Manning added.

Derek clapped him on the back. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can see your wife.”

A keening cry shattered the usual quiet of the New Park Medical ICU.

Jack is going to kill him , Viktor thought. It had escaped his mind to inform Jack that his parents had kept a vigil by Maia’s bedside for over two weeks now. They didn’t blame Maia for their son’s abduction, and instead, took care of her the way parents would take care of their daughter in such a situation. Though being shot in the gut wasn’t a normal occurrence experienced by most daughters.

“Oh, my God, oh, my God—Jack!” Frances McCord threw herself into her son’s arms, failing to notice the wince that crossed Jack’s face. “What did they do to you?” Frances speared Viktor with an angry glare. “What did they do to him? ”

Jack cupped his mom’s face gently. “Mom, I’m okay. I’ll tell you. But I really, really want to see Maia right now.”

Frances nodded in understanding. Robert McCord gave his son a hug and gruffly welcomed him back. Jack kissed his mom on the forehead and took a deep breath before stepping into Maia’s room. His parents followed, along with Dr. Lance Henderson, who worked on retainer at AGS’s medical facility, but also had medical privileges at New Park Medical.

Dr. Henderson had explained Maia’s condition to Viktor and Jack’s parents, but there was something else the doctor felt he had to hold back at least until Maia was conscious or Jack came back. Viktor had a bad feeling about it. He was surprised how well Jack had survived three weeks of captivity but knew the effects could still manifest later.

Pain flashed through Jack’s features as he raised a trembling hand to touch Maia’s face.

“Babe.” His whisper was low as he bent over to kiss his wife’s forehead.

Viktor had known Maia since she was twelve, and because of her daredevil attitude, this wasn’t the first time he had seen her laid up on a hospital bed. Still, it wasn’t easy for Viktor to see her intubated and hooked up to a ventilator—so he could well imagine how McCord was feeling.

Dr. Henderson cleared his throat. “Jack, it’s good to see you alive and . . . almost well.”

“Doc,” Jack acknowledged.

“I want to run some tests and x-rays on you after this.”

“That won’t be necessary—”

“Son,” Robert cut in. “Do this for us, please.”

Jack nodded reluctantly. “Doc, I would like to hear about my wife’s condition.”

“The bullet went through and through and hit mostly muscle, but it grazed some of her intestinal walls and damaged some blood vessels. They had the best surgeons in Paris work on her, and I won’t lie—they did lose her a couple of times, but she made it. Her brain function is normal, so we expect her to wake up with no problem.”

“When could you bring her out of the coma?” Jack asked.

“We could do it as soon as tomorrow. Her test results are very promising, but with the extent of her injury, infection remains to be a possible complication.”

“How long before she gets to move around?”

“She’ll be ambulatory in another two weeks,” Dr. Henderson replied. “Jack, there’s something else you need to know.”

Viktor watched all the McCords stiffen and realized he did the same.

“Maia was pregnant.”

“Was?” Jack’s voice was strangled. Frances McCord started sniffling.

“She miscarried,” Dr. Henderson said. “It’s hard to tell the age of the fetus without knowing when her last cycle was. I doubt if she was even aware that she was pregnant.”

“She was pregnant?” Jack repeated the words in a gruff whisper.

“Jack—” Frances McCord was openly crying now as she laid a hand on her son’s back.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, his head dropping. “I’d like to be alone with Maia, please.”

Frances held back a sob and quietly walked out. Viktor was the last one to leave the room. Jack McCord was one of the strongest men Viktor had ever known. But even the strongest of men had a breaking point. McCord just hit his.

Before Viktor closed the door, he saw Jack bend over his wife, and gingerly wrap his arms around her. His body shook as he allowed his grief to take over.

“How is he?” Derek asked. They were hanging out at the ICU waiting room.

Viktor shrugged. “He’s taking it hard. But that’s expected after what he’s been through. We need to debrief him.”

“Can’t you leave him alone for a few days?” Derek asked incredulously. “The man thought he’d lost his wife. He was tortured and starved for three weeks. Cut him some slack.”

Viktor nearly lost his cool. Men like Derek just didn’t get it. Friendships made you weak and clouded your judgment. Derek and Jack were partners in McCord Defense Industries and the two were the best of friends. Derek used to work for AGS and that was how he and Maia had become buddies as well. It was Derek who had recommended Maia to head up protective custody for Jack’s brother. And now here they were.

Viktor had strong reservations about Maia getting involved with Jack, and he’d done his own share of meddling. But Jack had more than proven his worth to Viktor and married Maia despite knowing how crazy her job could get. McCord had even invested in AGS to become privy to mission details, and because he was part owner, Jack had access to the codes to the AGS database.

“This is bigger than Maia and Jack,” Viktor said in a low voice. “A week after Maia was hit, an ex-Guardian who had worked as a Lacrosse coach in Georgetown University died of a heart attack. He had been as healthy as an ox.”

“Are you saying someone is targeting Guardians?”

Viktor nodded. “I had my suspicions. After McCord told us what his abductors were after, I’m more convinced someone is acting on a vendetta. Maia was the target, not Nasir.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “And you’re only telling me this now? Should I be worried about Sophie?”

Viktor didn’t answer.

“Damn you, Viktor,” Derek said. “If anything happens—”

“Calm down. ”

“How dare you withhold information from us—”

“We’ll have an all-hands briefing tomorrow and figure this out.”

Derek walked to the elevator. “I’m going home. Tell Jack I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Lockwood—”

Just then, the elevator doors opened and Braden Connelly stepped out. The Guardian was in love with Maia and had no problems making his interest known. He had pissed off Jack McCord a couple of times.

Derek’s face darkened, and his lips curled into a snarl.

Viktor rolled his eyes. Great, now we’re having a freaking hospital soap opera .

Before Derek could confront Braden, Viktor stepped between them and said, “I thought I told you not to show your face around here, Connelly.”

The tall, blond Guardian wasn’t aware of Jack’s rescue yet. The fool thought the field was wide-open now. Maia was in a fucking coma for Christ’s sake.

“What I do during my personal time is none of your business, Viktor,” Braden replied. “And if you fire me over this, I will sue your ass.”

“Say that to me again, Connelly.” Viktor stepped into his space. “Tell me that you’re going to sue my ass, and I’ll make sure I rip you a new one.”

Braden didn’t answer and shouldered past Viktor to walk to Maia’s room.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Viktor called out.

Braden stopped and turned around. “Or what? You’re physically going to stop me?”

The door to Maia’s room opened, and Jack walked out.

“No, I won’t.” Viktor jerked his chin up. “But he will.”

Viktor crossed his arms as he watched Braden pivot on his feet and turn rock-solid. He couldn’t see the idiot’s face, but he was pretty sure his jaw was hanging open. Jack’s expression was the scariest Viktor had ever seen it. The two men stood before each other like gunslingers at the O.K. Corral—without the guns.

Derek scowled at Viktor. “What the hell are you doing? Jack’s far from one-hundred percent.”

“Never underestimate the power of raw anger.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Jack said as he stalked the couple of steps toward Braden, ignoring the gasp coming from his mother.

“You’re alive,” Braden said quietly.

“Yes, I’m fucking alive,” Jack growled. “And you’re so fucking dead.”

Jack faked a right hook, and instead, slugged Braden across his cheek with his left fist. But Braden was a six-foot-five solidly-built wall of muscle and only staggered back a few steps.

“I don’t want to fight you, McCord,” Braden said. “Not like this, man. You look like hell.”

“I was in hell you asshole, and you tried to steal my wife? Fuck you!”

Jack launched himself and planted his shoulder into Braden’s torso, crashing into a cart of medical instruments and taking him down. He let loose a series of punches, some connecting while some were deflected by Braden. The blond man managed to throw Jack off.

“This is an ICU, not a bar,” the head nurse yelled. “Stop now! Security’s on its way and I’m having all of you thrown out.”

Derek and Robert restrained a furious Jack from going after Braden again.

Viktor sighed, walked up to Braden and shoved him toward the elevator. “Go home, you big idiot. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

Just then, his Sec-phone buzzed.

“Baran. ”

“How’s Jack?”

“Considering the circumstances, he’s good. He’s already gotten into a brawl.”

“What?”

“It’s like freaking General Hospital over here.”

“Did you just crack a joke?”

“Yes, I did, sweetheart.”

She laughed. He loved hearing her laugh.

“Listen, I think I have some intel for you.” Marissa changed the subject.

“What?”

“It’s a who. Remember Jiro Matsuda?”

“What’s the Japanese got to do with this?”

“You know he’s not really Japanese.”

“We can’t talk about this over the phone, Marissa.”

“Okay. Where do you want to meet?”

“Site three in twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good.”

“You know you don’t have to make up shit to see me, Marissa.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

The line went dead, but Viktor found himself grinning.