Updated Apr 20, 2026 • ~4 min read
Chapter 23: Got It
Nadia
The warehouse where Viktor conducts his business is exactly the kind of place you’d expect a mob boss to favor—industrial, isolated, with enough open space that approaching unseen is nearly impossible and enough exits that escaping pursuit is easy.
Nadia walks through the front entrance alone, her heels clicking on concrete and her heart hammering so hard she’s certain Viktor will be able to hear it, and tries to project confidence she absolutely doesn’t feel.
“Anya Sokolova,” Viktor’s voice comes from the shadows near the back of the warehouse, and then he’s stepping into view, older than she remembers but still carrying that same aura of controlled menace that haunted her nightmares for twelve years. “You came.”
“You threatened to kill everyone I know,” Nadia says, keeping her voice steady through sheer force of will. “Of course I came.”
“Alone, as requested.” Viktor circles her slowly, assessing, and Nadia feels Riot’s presence through the earpiece like a lifeline. “Though I admit, I didn’t expect you to actually follow instructions. Your father never could.”
“My father was a good man who made the mistake of trusting you,” Nadia says, and watches Viktor’s expression shift to something amused.
“Your father was weak. He had power, access, opportunity—and he threw it all away because he grew a conscience.” Viktor stops in front of her, close enough that she can smell expensive cologne and old cigarette smoke. “Tell me, Anya—did you come here to beg for your life? Or to waste my time with recriminations about things that happened over a decade ago?”
“I came to end this,” Nadia says, and thinks: *Come on, Viktor. Confess. Tell me what you did so the FBI has everything they need.*
“End this?” Viktor laughs, and it’s the sound of a predator playing with prey. “There’s only one way this ends, and we both know it. You’re here because you’re tired of running. Because you want it to be quick instead of drawing it out. And I’m feeling generous enough to grant that mercy.”
“Generous,” Nadia repeats, and feels rage building beneath the fear. “You murdered my parents in front of me. You’ve spent twelve years trying to kill me to cover up your crimes. That’s not generous—that’s monstrous.”
“I’m a businessman,” Viktor corrects mildly. “Your father threatened my business by cooperating with federal authorities. Your continued existence threatens my business because you possess knowledge that could implicate me in several dozen felonies. Therefore, you need to die. It’s nothing personal.”
“You shot my mother in the head while she begged you to spare her daughter,” Nadia says, her voice breaking despite her best efforts. “You made me watch. How is that not personal?”
“Collateral damage,” Viktor says with a shrug that makes Nadia want to claw his eyes out. “Your mother was weak, like your father. Weak people die. Strong people survive. You’ve survived this long because you learned to run—but running ends eventually.”
“Got it,” Marcus’s voice says in her ear, barely audible. “We have the confession. Riot’s moving.”
Relief floods through Nadia so intense she almost staggers, and she watches Viktor’s expression shift from amused to suspicious in the space of a heartbeat.
“You’re wired,” he says flatly, and suddenly there’s a gun in his hand, pointed directly at her head. “How very stupid of you, Anya.”
“Actually,” Nadia says, and her voice is steady despite the weapon aimed at her face, “I think it was pretty smart. The FBI has everything they need now. You just confessed to multiple murders on recording. It’s over, Viktor.”
“It’s not over until you’re dead,” Viktor snarls, and Nadia hears Riot’s voice screaming her name through the earpiece a split second before Viktor’s hand closes around her throat.
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