Page 21 of Tracking Shadows

“I need to find Sergei because I need to know what happened to Ivan. If he's still alive . . . I need answers.”

The words come out more easily than I expected, and once they’re out, I feel a strange sense of relief, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve been carrying this burden for so long, it feels almost surreal to share it with someone else.

Alexei doesn’t say anything for a moment, just reaches out and takes my hand, his thumb brushing gently over my skin. The touch is soothing, comforting, and I lean into it, letting myself take comfort in the warmth of his hand.

“Sergei will get what’s coming to him,” he says quietly. “We’ll make sure of it.”

The air between us shifts, becoming charged with something electric, something that’s been simmering beneath the surface since our first meeting. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just us, standingthere in the moonlight, our bodies so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.

I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, I’m leaning in, my hand tightening around his, and before I can second-guess myself, my lips are on his. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, like we’re both testing the waters. But then his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and the kiss deepens, becoming something more intense, more desperate.

I feel like I’m drowning in him, in the heat of his body, the taste of his lips, the way his hand grips me like he never wants to let go. I want more—more of his touch, more of him. The need is so overwhelming that it makes me dizzy, makes my head spin with desire.

I press closer to him, my free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm. His skin is warm, smooth, and I can’t help the way my fingers curl into him, pulling him closer, needing to feel more of him.

Fuck, I need him.

Chapter 7 – Alexei

I’m staring at the ceiling of our makeshift bunk, tracing the cracks with my eyes, pretending they lead somewhere other than where I am. But that’s the thing about pretending—you can’t do it forever. I roll over, face the wall, and hear Dmitri breathing slowly and steadily beside me. For once, it isn’t a snore. He’s awake, too.

“We’re getting out of here today, Alexei.” Dmitri’s voice is a rough whisper in the dark.

I nod, though he can’t see it. My gut tightens, half with the thrill of it, half with dread. I’ve been in this factory since I was barely a man, or maybe since I stopped being one. Whatever I am now, it’s as much a part of this place as the rust on the machines or the smell of sweat soaked into the walls.

“How?” My voice comes out harder than I mean it to, but it’s the only way to keep from cracking.

He shifts on the narrow cot, the creak of the old springs loud in the stillness. “We need something to keep us going, until we get on our feet.”

I turn my head just enough to see his outline against the dim light filtering through the grimy window. “What are you saying?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “We take the drugs.”

I sit up, my heart thudding hard against my ribs. “You’re insane. That place is locked down tighter than anything in this godforsaken pit.”

“That’s why it’s perfect. No one would think we’d be stupid enough to try.” He’s serious, dead serious, and the weight of it hits me like a punch to the gut. “We get the drugs, we can trade them, use them—whatever it takes to keep us from crawling back to this place.”

"Are you sure about this, Dmitri?"

The plan we’re concocting is insane, even for us.

"What choice do we have, Alexei? We need to get the hell out of this place. And once we’re gone, we’re going to need more than just your good looks to survive."

I laugh, though there’s no humor in it. "You think stealing the drugs is the way to go?"

"We’re sitting on a gold mine here," Dmitri says. "You know what they’re cooking in the back—the stuff they sell for a fortune. We grab some of it, sell it off bit by bit, and we’ll have enough cash to disappear for good."

Two weeks later, we’re ready.

The factory is a beast, sprawling and fortified, with metal walls that sweat in the summer and freeze in the winter. The air always smells like burnt chemicals, sharp enough to cut through even the thickest layers of grime. We’ve been working on the plan every night, whispering in the dark, every detail etched into our minds like the tattoos on Dmitri’s arms. He’sthe only one who knows the inner workings of this place better than I do, and even he looks a little pale as we approach the storage area.

It’s not just a room; it’s a fortress within a fortress. The main door is thick steel, reinforced with layers of security—electronic locks, a code system that changes every few hours, and a guard stationed nearby who never seems to sleep. Inside, there’s another door, the kind you see in bank vaults. I’m half convinced it would take a tank to get through it.

We wait, tucked into the shadow of a massive machine that groans with the weight of decades of work. The guard on duty tonight is one we’ve watched for weeks—a creature of habit, always takes a piss break right around this time, five minutes on the dot. My pulse hammers as I watch the clock tick down.

Dmitri nudges me, and we move. Silent as ghosts, we slip into the narrow hallway leading to the storage area. The guard’s already on his way out, oblivious as he hums some half-remembered tune. I hold my breath, counting each step as we move closer to the door.

Dmitri’s hand is steady as he pulls out the stolen code card, swiping it through the reader. The light flashes green, and we’re in.

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