Page 36 of Merciless Bratva Soldier

On the way out, I leave the white box on her counter. Inside is a whole honey cake.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“My grandmother’s recipe,” I say. “For the road.”

In the car, I take out the spiral notebook and a pencil.

I copy Inés’s terms beside Rosa’s eighteen.

At the bottom of the page is the box for when the mixer dies.

Thirty-five hundred. For once, the reserve column has a number.

Tessa is the first person I need to tell.

I take out my phone and call Tessa, and she screams so loudly that Grisha flinches, and I laugh until my eyes water.

Shortly before closing that night, I’m at Nikolai’s table with the yellow copy of Inés’s agreement tucked inside Galina’s notebook when Daniel’s name lights my screen.

Daniel.

They asked me about Rosa’s alarm. I told them it’s the old one. I’m sorry, V.

I read it once. I read the middle again.

I told them.

I don’t reply. I take a screenshot and send it to Grisha and Nikolai at the same time.

Grisha answers in under a minute. Seen. Doing a pass.

I call Rosa. She answers on the second ring, and in the background I can hear Tessa reciting something about potassium.

“Rosa. They know what alarm we have.”

“We changed the code,” she says.

“It isn’t enough.” God how I wish it were. “We need cameras. Real ones. I need to see him before he gets anywhere near that door.”

There’s a pause. The potassium stops.

“Call the alarm company in the morning. Tell them it’s my shop and your decision where they go.”

When the call ends, another name appears across the screen.

Nikolai.

Still in Ohio. Leaving tonight instead of tomorrow. Back by two in the morning.

I curl in on myself, arms wrapped around my waist to contain the ache of missing him. I wish he wasn’t in Ohio. I wish he was here with me, right now, my ear pressed against his heartbeat and his hands fisting my hair.

Because tomorrow morning might be too late.

16

NIKOLAI

The Toledo truck comes for the last of our pallets at five a.m. on Monday.