Page 36 of Tracking Shadows

“I left the military after I got severely injured, and when I thought I had nothing, no hope, no future, your dad made sure to always remind me that life was still worth living.”

I don’t want to hear about my dad. Not from him. Not from anyone. My dad is gone, and nothing this man says will change that.

I wipe my eyes, hating how easily the tears fall. “So what? You were friends? That doesn’t mean I should trust you. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He lowers the photo. “I’m not asking you to trust me. Not yet. I’m just telling you the truth.”

I laugh bitterly, though it’s more of a broken sound. “The truth? What's that supposed to help me with?”

“I know you’ve lost everything—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“You don’t know anything about me!” I snap. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I saw. My parents are dead. Do you get that? They’re dead, and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix it.”

His face softens. “You’re right. I don’t know everything. But I do know what it feels like to lose the people you love. Sergei took everything from me, too.”

I pause. “What?”

He takes a step back, leaning against the wall as if the weight of his own words is too much. “Sergei didn’t just go after your dad. He went after all of us. There were three of us working on the case. I was away for a while working undercover, and when I returned, my . . . my wife . . . my son . . ..” His voice cracks. “I couldn’t save them.”

I want to say something, to tell him that I’m sorry, but the words get stuck in my throat. I don’t know how to feel.

“We thought we could stop Sergei. I thought if I just pushed hard enough, I could end it. But I was wrong. I couldn’t save them. And I couldn’t save your father or Benjamin.”

“So . . . what now? You think you can save me?”

He looks up. “No. I don’t think I can save anyone. But I can help you get through this. I can make sure you don’t have to go through it alone.”

I shake my head, pressing my back harder against the wall. “I don’t need your help. I just . . . I just want my parents back.”

His face crumples, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something. But then he stops, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “I know.”

The silence stretches between us. I don’t know what to say, and for the first time, I think he doesn’t either.

Finally, he speaks again. “I promised your father I would protect you. That’s why I’m here.”

“He’s gone. What does that promise even matter now?”

“It matters because I’m still here,” he says. “And I’m going to keep that promise. Whether you believe me or not.”

***

Alexei is flipping through the files, and his face hardens more with each page he turns. I haven’t touched the pile in front of me. Not yet. I know what’s in them. I know it’s going to be bad. Worse than bad.

But when he finally slides a thick stack my way, I pull it toward me. The papers are worn, some creased like they’ve been passed from hand to hand too many times. There are pictures of girls, boys, some not much older than 7 or 8. Their faces are blurred in places, but you can still see the fear in their eyes. They look haunted.

“They’re kids,” Alexei says softly. “Fucking kids.”

I don’t respond. I flip through the next few pages, and there are more details—contracts, payments, distribution routes.

God, I don’t want to see this.

“This is insane,” Alexei mutters, running a hand over his face. “How can people—”

He stops. He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. We both know exactly how far people can go.

“We need to stop this . . .. We cut it off from the head,” he says. “If we can take down the Broker, the whole thing crumbles.”

I shake my head, shoving the papers back across the table. “I’m not interested in taking down a mafia operation, Alexei.”

---