Page 204 of Sexting the Pakhan

He laughs softly. “Still giving orders.”

I hear movement to my left and right. Men stepping out of the dark one by one.

Ilya stands with Mila in front of him, one hand gripping the back of her coat. Two men are off to the left. Two more to the right. Another hangs back with a gun already raised. Enough to close every easy path. Enough to make sure I don’t leave with her.

Then Stepan steps into my line of sight.

I look at him properly for the first time since the cottage. His face is pale. Tight. Not calm. Not proud. Not even hard. He looks like a man who has already done something he can’t live with.

I ask him, “How long?”

For a second, he says nothing.

The wind moves through the trees behind us. Mila is crying quietly, trying hard not to make noise. Ilya is smiling, enjoying all of this more than he should.

I keep my eyes on Stepan. “How long?” I ask again.

His voice is flat when he answers. “Long enough.”

I trusted him like a brother. I don’t speak that way about men. But I built too much around him.

Ilya shifts his grip on Mila’s coat and says, “You really still don’t understand, do you?”

I don’t say a word. Ilya’s smile fades when he sees I’m not taking the bait the way he wants. He keeps one fist twisted in the back of Mila’s coat. She’s crying quietly, trying not to make a sound, her face turned toward me.

I keep my voice level for her. “Let her go.”

Ilya says, “No.”

“Then talk.”

That gets a reaction. He wasn’t expecting that.

Around him, the others hold their places in the dark. I can make them out more clearly now. Dima stands off to the right, face unreadable, gun low but ready. Kirill is farther back than the others, pale and jumpy, like he still isn’t built for this kind of night and knows it. Two more men from the warehouses are spread wide near the tree line.

And then, from behind me, I hear footsteps on gravel.

I don’t turn right away. I know who it is before he speaks.

Lenkov.

He walks into view from behind me, slow, almost calm.

I look at him once, then back at Ilya. “You brought everyone,” I say.

Ilya smiles. “Most of them came willingly.”

“Clearly.”

Dima shifts his gun. “This doesn’t have to get messier.”

“It already is messy,” I say. “You’re holding a child.”

Kirill looks away. I see it.

“You can’t even look at her?” I ask him.

Kirill swallows. “This wasn’t my idea.”