Chapter 11: Alexei

I wake up to the soft rhythm of Irina's breathing beside me. It's a sound that is so unfamiliar and yet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I just lie there, watching her sleep. I take in the way the early morning light catches on the strands of her hair. My hand moves on its own, reaching out to trace the curve of her cheek. I stop just short, and my fingers hover above her skin. I don't want to wake her, not yet. Not when this is the most peaceful I've seen her in days.

But the urge to touch her wins out.

I run my fingers gently through her hair, feeling the silky texture slide between them. She stirs slightly, and her brow furrows before her eyes flutter open and meet mine. She pauses for a while before she tenses up, and then she shifts and pulls away.

"Irina." I catch her wrist before she can slip out of bed. "Don't run from me . . .. It doesn't have to be anything more than this if you don't want it to be. Just . . . don't run."

Her eyes are unreadable for a minute, but then, she lets out a breath, slow, like she's deflating, and just lowers herself back down beside me.

I pull her closer, and my hand slips from her hair to cup her face. She doesn't resist. She lets me kiss her, slow and soft at first, then deeper, and she kisses me back.

Her phone goes off, and it feels like someone just threw cold water over the whole damn moment. Irina pulls back, already reaching for the phone. Her face goes still as she reads the message.

"We have to move." She's already on her feet, scanning the room like she's mapping out the quickest way to pack and leave.

"What is it?" I'm up and moving before she's finished speaking, grabbing my pants off the floor.

"Sergei's men are looking for us. We need to get to the bunker."

"Wait, how do you know this?"

"I told you I have my sources."

"Sources?"

"You'll meet her soon."

"Her?" I raise an eyebrow, surprised. Irina's always been full of surprises, and I'm learning to trust her instincts.

"I suppose you're going to tell me women can't do this kind of work?"

"Of course not," I reply with a slight grin. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She shoots me a look, and the corners of her mouth twitch up in the faintest hint of a smile before she turns back to what she is packing in a duffel bag. "There are a few packet meals in the drawer. Grab a few packs of those and just gather whatever you think is useful," she instructs. "We might be at the bunker for a long while."

I move quickly and start throwing together the essentials. We're out the door in minutes, sliding into the car like we've done this a thousand times before. She's in the passenger seat, and her eyes constantly flick to the mirrors as I take the back streets.

When we finally get to the bunker, I'm expecting some dark, damp hole in the ground. What I'm not expecting is . . . well, a house. An actual, livable, underground house.

"You've been holding out on me," I say, whistling low as we step inside.

The place is functional, sure, but it's got everything. Even a little style, if you squint.

"Don't get used to it," she mutters, already scanning the room.

Her attention turns to something else. I follow her gaze and spot a young girl standing in the doorway, watching us with an intensity that belies her age. She can't be more than twenty, but there's a hardness in her eyes that tells me she's seen more than most people twice her age.

"Alexei, this is Katya," Irina says. "Katya . . . Alexei,"

I step forward, offering my hand, and Katya shakes it. There's something almost eerie about her, and it's unsettling in someone so young.

"I'm Alexei," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "Irina's partner."

Katya's eyes flicker at the word, but she doesn't comment. Instead, she pulls her hand back quickly and crosses her arms over her chest as if to create some sort of barrier between us.

"You're pretty young for this line of work, don't you think?" I say, trying to break the ice with a smile.

"I'm twenty," she replies, her tone flat. "And I'm not here to make friends."

Well, that shuts me up.

"Right," I say, standing straighter. "So, what do you have for us?"

Katya leads us over to a wall plastered with maps, photos, and notes—everything a conspiracy theorist's wet dream would look like.

"I've been gathering this information for years, and I have only just found out there is someone pulling Sergei's strings." She touches a picture with an X mark on it. "The Broker. Irina told me you've found out about that already. It did not come as a shock to me. I know he's lost everything so he's looking for anyone that can save him. The Broker, however, is not someone you can toil with. He's the wildest of the wild.

"From my information, He's been around for years, but no one knows where he came from or who he really is. Some say he used to be military; others think he's some kind of shadow government figure. What I do know is that he runs things . . . differently. More brutal, more methodical."

Katya walks back to where Irina and I are seated. "Sergei might be brutal, but he's just a puppet. The Broker has the connections. He's the one with the power. The ball you two crashed wasn't just some charity event. It was a market. The investors weren't bidding for shares; they were buying people."

The words hang in the air, heavy and sickening. I feel my stomach churn, but I keep my face blank. I've seen enough in my life to know there's no room for reacting to this right now.

I force myself to speak, though my voice comes out harder than I intend. "And you know all this because . . .?"

Katya's eyes flicker to mine. "I work as a maid for one of Sergei's men; now I work as a maid for Sergei himself. You wouldn't believe the things people say when they think you're invisible. I've pieced this together over the years, little by little."

"And you've never seen this Broker?" Irina finally asks

Katya shakes her head. "No one has. At least no one who's still alive. He's a ghost, operating in the shadows, pulling all the right strings."

"So, what's the plan?" I ask, looking between Irina and Katya. "We just take out Sergei and hope this whole thing collapses without him?"

Irina's expression hardens, and I know what's coming before she even opens her mouth. "We're here for Sergei. That's the mission. Nothing changes."

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. "What about the people? The ones being trafficked, the kids stuck in those hellholes?"

"That's not my problem," she says, "I'm here for Sergei; every other person is just collateral damage."

I turn to Katya, hoping she might see things differently. But she just shrugs, her face impassive. "I risked everything to get you this information. My job's done. Whether you take down Sergei or go after the whole operation is up to you. But Sergei needs to die. That's all I care about."

Her detachment irritates me, but I get it. She's had to disconnect to survive in this world. Hell, we all have.

Katya grabs a stack of files from the table and hands them to me. "Go through these. They'll give you more details on the operation and maybe information on Ivan's location. I've got to go. Keep me updated."

And with that, she turns and walks out of the room.