Page 140 of Blood & Snow
But this warehouse needs her attention.
So many bodies require removal, blood stains demand elimination, and evidence must disappear before Moscow police arrive to investigate reports of automatic weapons fire.
I type out the address and send it without additional context.
She'll understand what the message means, and she'll gather her supplies and make whatever excuses are necessary to explain another midnight emergency at the hotel where she supposedly works.
The thought of seeing her again creates tension in my chest I thought I pushed away.
In the car, she told me she loved me even as she prepared to walk away.
The contradiction feels venomous, leaving wounds that won't heal with vodka or the spilling of blood.
She loves me but can't survive in my world.
I love her but can't exist in hers. It's misery no matter how you look at it.
My men begin the preliminary cleanup, moving bodiesto central locations where disposal will be easier.
They work like soldiers who've performed this ritual hundreds of times, reducing human beings to logistical problems that require systematic solutions.
It's beautiful in its simplicity, but to women like Nadya, it's trauma, and I know why she wants to run.
I should stay and supervise to ensure the scene is properly sanitized before we withdraw.
But the thought of facing Nadya while blood still stains my clothes makes breathing difficult. She won't look me in the eye.
I know it, and she'll only give me more excuses.
Family comes first, and she is making the right choice, but sometimes the right choice gets you killed.
Will she clean up after me one final time before disappearing forever?
Or will this warehouse become the place where she finally accepts that loving a monster requires becoming one?
"I'm leaving," I tell Igor, holstering my rifle.
"Handle the preliminary work until she arrives."
He nods without question, professional enough not to probe into decisions that don't affect operational security.
But I see the calculation in his expression, the way he files away information about my attachment to the woman who scrubs our sins from crime scenes.
I drive back to my safehouse feeling empty, passing homes where average folks are climbing into bed for the night or already resting peacefully.
Nadya used to be one of them.
Forensic science student with dreams of legitimate career, helping her sister raise children who believe the world contains more good than evil.
I pulled her from that life into mine, corruption spreading like infection through everything she touched.
Now she carries my secrets, knows my methods, hasseen me kill men with her own eyes.
The knowledge makes her complicit whether she wants to be or not.
In the eyes of law enforcement, she's an accessory to murder.
In the eyes of my enemies, she's a legitimate target.
