Page 21 of His Hold

The words had felt rehearsed even then. But I was too wrapped up in my own life to press her about it.

And when she went missing a few months later, I didn’t bother to reach out to him. Why would I? The police did their part, interrogating him like he was some jealous ex who couldn’t let go. He came out clean, of course. And he's polite enough not to be offended. Even cooperative. All the things that make someone seem safe.

But we weren’t friends. We never had been. So, I buried his number along with everything else, pretending he was a dead end.

Anton picks up on the third ring. "Who is this?"

"It's Katya. Irina's sister."

Silence stretches between us. When he speaks, his voice is rough. "Why are you calling?"

"Someone broke into my apartment tonight. Left a warning." I swallow hard. "I need to know what you remember about the weeks before she disappeared. Every detail."

"That was five years ago. Let it go, Katya."

"She was seeing someone around the time you two were together. Someone new. You must have noticed something."

He sighs loudly like this call is exhausting him before he speaks. "Listen, this isn’t supposed to be any of my business, but I’ll give you this simple advice for the love I once had for your sister. Stop digging." His voice turns strident. "If she was, in fact, involved with dangerous people who took her, then it would be better if we don’t mess with them. Some questions are better left unanswered."

"Anton, please. She's my sister."

"And she was my fiancée. And I really loved her. But she made her choice."

I falter, the breath knocked out of me. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means she went looking for something else. Whatever happened to her...she walked into it willingly. You need to understand that.” He pauses. “Maybe she found what she was looking for. Maybe she didn’t. But if she’s dead, Katya...if she’s really gone...she made her bed before she disappeared. Remember that.”

The line goes dead. I stare at my phone, my mind racing. Anton might know more than he's saying. But his warning feels genuine – just like the one carved into my table.

I stand up, surveying my destroyed apartment. They wanted to frighten me away. Instead, they've confirmed I'm getting close. Irina chose this path, but I never got to understand why. Never got to take back those last hateful words.

Moving to my desk, I pull out the hidden research files. Photos of Bratva members. Notes on their operations. Newspaper clippings about disappeared women. And in the center, a photo of Irina – smiling, beautiful, keeping secrets I'm only beginning to uncover.

"I'm coming for you, sister," I whisper. "Whatever it takes."

Chapter 6

Nikolai

I hate parties. Especially the kind where everyone pretends the blood on their hands is just expensive cologne. But Kirill insisted I be here tonight, said it was important to make an appearance. So here I am, surrounded by sycophants in tuxedos and women paraded around like trophies.

The ballroom we are in is a gaudy thing, dripping with chandeliers and gold trim, the crystal an absurdity contrasting with the sinister undercurrent snaking through the room. Half of these bastards have dirtier secrets than I do, but they laugh and toast like their lives aren’t built on lies and blood money.

I stick to the edges of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey, asking myself why I am even here. It’s not my first. Won’t be my last. I’ve already lost count, but I can’t feel the burn anymore, just the numbness creeping in. Good.

We are all here for the last drug deal, which was a success. I never understood Kirill's taste in the opulent, but I know this lavish circus is his way of flaunting his power. I’ve never been one for parties. The clink of champagne glasses, the rustle of silk gowns—it’s nothing but white noise.

Still, these people are important to our work, and that’s enough reason to endure.

My eyes scan the crowd looking for someone who could at least pass for entertainment. I spot Ivanov, doing his best impression of a sleazy politician and schmoozing with potential investors. He’s not one of my favorite people to talk to, but then again, I hate everyone, so I’ll pass.

Then my eyes cut to Kirill moving through the crowd, every step a performance of grace and dominance. He spots me, smirks, then heads in my direction.

“Enjoying yourself?” He has that damned smile of his, the one that makes you forget he’s a monster until it’s too late.

“Always,” I say, lifting my glass in mock salute. He knows I’d rather be anywhere else. He just doesn’t care.

Kirill claps a hand on my shoulder, and his grip is too tight to be friendly. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

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