Page 83 of Triplet Babies
She moves to a small antique desk near the window, running her fingers along its polished surface with casual familiarity. “He thought he was so clever, approaching Yarik with business proposals and financial opportunities. I was feeding him every detail and every weakness in the Barinov network that he could exploit.”
I work carefully at the blade Nina hid in my jacket seam, trying to position it properly while keeping my movements minimal. The angle is awkward with my hands tied behind my back, and I can only make tiny sawing motions against the rope without drawing Katya’s attention. The blade is small and sharp, designed more for cutting thread than rope, but it’s the only weapon I have.
She pauses by the window, adjusting the blinds to peer out at something in the distance. “The financial irregularities, the shell companies, and the unauthorized transactions were all designed to create chaos within Yarik’s operations. Roman thought he was helping himself get access to you while weakening Yarik, but really, he was helping me identify every weakness and vulnerability I could exploit later.”
The rope fibers part slowly under the blade’s edge, strand by strand. My fingers are cramping from the awkward position, and there are small cuts on my skin where the knife has slipped, but I force myself to keep working through each fiber.
She turns back to me, noting my stillness with approval. “You’re a good listener. Roman never was. He kept asking questions, wanting to know details about the larger plan, and demanding reassurances about his precious reunion with you. As if his obsession with one woman could possibly matter in the scope of what I’m building.”
She moves closer and crouches down so she’s at my eye level, close enough that I can smell her expensive overly sweet perfume and see the tiny lines around her eyes that makeup can’t quite hide.
“Yarik was never supposed to survive much past our wedding,” she continues, her voice dropping to an intimate whisper. “Itwas only going to be a few months of marriage, just long enough to consolidate the business relationships and transfer key assets to joint accounts, while perhaps getting pregnant to make sure Yuri Barinov didn’t try to challenge me, if that pathetic old drunk could, followed by a tragic accident. Perhaps a car crash, or maybe something that looked like retaliation from a rival family. There are still a few Kozlovs around who could be framed for his murder, and that would give me a reason to take what they retained too, but that’s hardly worth the bother.”
She reaches out and traces a finger along my cheek, and I jerk my head away from her touch. The motion causes her to smile, but it’s a cold expression that doesn’t look genuine. “I was going to be widowed so young, inheriting everything, with the perfect position to rebuild the organization according to my vision. The Nikitin network combined with Barinov resources, all under my control. It would have been beautiful.”
The blade bites deeper into the rope fibers, and they’re starting to give way more readily. Blood from the small cuts on my wrists makes the handle slippery, but I maintain my grip and continue the careful sawing motion.
She stands and resumes pacing, her voice growing more animated as she warms to her subject. “The timeline was perfect. Roman would eliminate you as a distraction, clearing the path for a smooth engagement period. I would marry Yarik and gradually assume control of his operations through perfectly legal means—joint bank accounts, shared business interests, and powers of attorney for when he traveled.”
Katya stops abruptly, whirling around to face me with sudden fury. “Then you ruined everything. Your little affair with my fiancé, and your obvious emotional hold over him complicated everything I’d worked for.”
I could tell her he didn’t want to marry her even before he met me, but the tape—and that voice of reason at the back of my mind advising I don’t further enrage the woman who wants me dead—keeps me from doing so.
She moves to a small table near the window and picks up her gun, the same one she used to kill Alex, to check the magazine. The metal gleams dully from the can lights overhead, and her finger rests along the trigger guard.
She turns back to me, resuming her story as if she isn’t holding a gun. “Yarik started questioning the engagement and looking for ways to extract himself from our arrangement. He began asking uncomfortable questions about the business merger, demanding more favorable terms, and stalling on signing important documents.” She turns the weapon over in her hands, examining it from different angles. “He was supposed to be compliant and grateful for the alliance. Instead, he became suspicious and difficult.”
The rope around my wrists loosens significantly as more fibers part under the blade’s edge. The bindings are starting to give way completely, but I force myself to keep my hands in position behind the chair. If Katya realizes I’m almost free, she’ll shoot me before I have a chance to act.
She returns to her pacing, gun held casually at her side like it’s a natural extension of her hand. “Now I have to clean up the mess you created. Roman first—that was actually quite satisfying. He was becoming increasingly unstable, demanding things I never promised, and threatening to expose our arrangement if I didn’t give him immediate access to you, as if I could do that.”
Katya pauses, a genuine smile crossing her face for the first time since I’ve known her. “You should have seen his face when Ipulled the trigger. All that arrogance and entitlement, gone in an instant. He never saw it coming. I’m sorry you missed that part since you weren’t able to see his face. Truly. After the hell he put you through, you deserved that satisfaction.”
She moves closer to me again, the gun now pointed in my general direction though not directly at me. “Your death will be next, of course. I’ll frame Roman for your murder—obsessed ex-boyfriend kills the woman who rejected him. Cops will find him burned to death in that warehouse fire and wonder why he went that way. It’s all very tidy and believable.”
I’d poke holes in her idea, including why Roman would murder me wherever she plans to leave me and then go to an old warehouse and choose to set it on fire with himself inside and a gunshot in his chest if she wants them to believe suicide, but again, the tape keeps me from speaking. It’s probably for the best that I don’t challenge her plan, but she’s not the chess master she thinks she is.
The sounds of gunfire erupt from somewhere outside the building, muffled by the walls but clearly audible. It sounds like multiple weapons, coordinated return fire, and maybe the unmistakable sounds of a tactical assault. Car doors slam, men shout orders, and I hear the distinctive crack of rifle fire mixed with the rapid chatter of automatic weapons.
Katya’s head snaps toward the window, her composed façade cracking for the first time. “Earlier than expected.”
I know with absolute certainty Yarik has found me. The relief is so intense it makes my vision blur for a moment, but I force myself to focus on working the blade against the remaining rope fibers. If he’s fighting his way through Katya’s security, I need to be ready to help when he reaches this room.
Glass shatters somewhere downstairs, followed by the rapid footsteps of multiple people moving through the house. Voices shout in Russian and English, coordinating the assault with military precision. I hear Valentin’s voice among them, calm and professional as he directs the operation.
She turns back to me, her expression shifting from annoyance to cold determination. The madness I glimpsed earlier is now fully visible, transforming her beautiful features into something reptilian and inhuman. “This actually works better. Yarik can watch you die before I kill him. That’s much more dramatic than my original plan.”
The rope gives way completely just as heavy footsteps pound up the stairs outside the room. I keep my hands behind my back, pretending to still be bound while gripping the small blade in my palm. My wrists are raw and bleeding, but I ignore the pain and focus on the weapon in my hand.
Katya raises the gun and aims it at the door, her body positioned so she can cover both me and whoever enters. Her breathing has gotten faster, but her hands remain steady as she sights down the barrel. “That’s impossible,” she mutters, checking her watch with a frown. “My men should hold them for at least another few minutes.”
The footsteps pause just outside the door, and I realize there’s only one person out there. Yarik came ahead of his team, probably slipping past the main fighting to reach me faster. Katya doesn’t know this yet. She’s expecting a coordinated assault with multiple operatives. This is it. Yarik is just beyond that door, walking into what might be a trap. I need to time this perfectly and create enough chaos for him to gain the upper hand without getting either of us killed in the process.
The door handle turns slowly, metal clicking against metal in the sudden silence. The door flies open with explosive force, and Yarik bursts into the room like an avenging angel. He looks like he’s been through hell. Blood soaks through his shirt that seems to belong to others, since I see no wounds. Dust and debris coat his hair and clothes, and there’s a fresh cut across his left cheek that’s still bleeding. His weapon is raised and ready.
Katya spins toward him, clearly caught unprepared by his sudden appearance. “You’re early.” She swings the gun away from me to target him.
I let out the loudest scream I can manage, the sound muffled by the tape but still piercing enough to shatter the tension in the room as I saw through the last section of rope. The blade slips from my palm and clatters to the floor, but I don’t need it anymore since my hands are free.
