Natalia's heart pounded in her chest as the gravity of Alexei's words settled over her. Sorokin was here. At the door. The man responsible for the very web of lies they'd been caught in—the puppet master pulling their strings from the shadows—had found them.
Alexei didn't move, his gaze fixed on the door as if he were weighing every possible scenario. The gun in his hand seemed heavier, his grip tightening around the handle. Natalia could see the tension in his body, the quiet calculation in his eyes as he tried to figure out their next move.
There was another knock. This time, louder. More insistent.
"Natalia," Alexei said under his breath, "we need to go. Now."
"But he's right outside," she whispered, panic rising in her throat. "There's no way out."
"There's always a way out," Alexei muttered, his mind clearly racing. His eyes darted to the window at the far end of the room. "We have to get to the roof."
Before Natalia could respond, another sound filled the room—a voice. Deep and smooth, like the calm before a storm.
"Alexei Volkov. Natalia Kovalenko. I know you're in there."
It was Sorokin. His voice, unmistakable. Natalia's blood ran cold.
"We don't have time!" Alexei hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the window. "Climb. Now."
Natalia stumbled, her legs feeling weak beneath her as she moved toward the window. Her hands fumbled with the lock, her fingers trembling as she tried to open it. Behind her, she could hear Sorokin speaking again, his tone unnervingly calm.
"You can try to run, but you won't get far," he said, his voice carrying through the door as if he were already inside. "This ends tonight, one way or another."
The lock finally gave way, and Natalia shoved the window open, feeling the cool night air rush into the room. Alexei was right behind her, his movements quick and precise as he checked the alley below. It wasn't a far drop, but far enough that if they weren't careful, they'd break an ankle.
"You first," Alexei whispered, helping her climb onto the ledge.
Natalia hesitated for only a second, glancing back at the door. Sorokin would break it down any moment, and the thought of facing him now, after everything they'd been through, sent a wave of fear through her. She swung one leg over the windowsill, then the other, her heart racing as she hung for a second before letting herself drop to the ground below.
She hit the pavement hard, pain shooting up her legs, but she bit back a gasp. Alexei followed, landing beside her with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. He grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet, and they began running again—no time to catch their breath, no time to process what was happening.
They bolted down the narrow alleyway, their footsteps echoing in the night. The distant wail of sirens filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Natalia's lungs burned as they rounded a corner, her mind racing with thoughts of how Sorokin had found them. They'd been so careful—or at least, they thought they had been.
They reached the end of the alley and found themselves in a dimly lit side street. Alexei slowed, glancing over his shoulder to check if they'd been followed. The street was eerily empty, the buildings around them casting long shadows under the pale glow of the streetlights.
"Where now?" Natalia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alexei scanned the street, his mind working quickly. "There's an old service tunnel near here. If we can make it, we'll have a chance to disappear."
They set off again, their pace quick but cautious as they moved through the quiet streets of Kyiv. The city, so full of life just hours earlier, now felt like a ghost town—a place where danger lurked around every corner.
As they approached the tunnel, a familiar sound reached Natalia's ears: the low hum of an approaching car. Alexei cursed under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the road ahead.
"They're already here," he muttered, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the shadows. "Stay low."
A black sedan rolled down the street, its headlights cutting through the darkness like searchlights. Natalia's breath caught in her throat as the car slowed, creeping past them as if it were hunting them down. She pressed herself closer to the wall, praying they wouldn't be seen.
The car passed, and for a brief moment, Natalia allowed herself to relax. But then, from behind them, came the sound of footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footsteps.
Alexei turned first, his face a mask of concentration as he slowly reached for his gun. Natalia's heart raced, her body tensing as she listened to the steady approach of whoever was behind them. They were cornered—no way out but forward.
And then, a voice called out from the shadows.
"Alexei. You didn't think you could run forever, did you?"
Natalia's blood froze. It wasn't Sorokin's voice. No, this one was different. Familiar.
Alexei's jaw tightened, his grip on his gun tightening as he turned to face the figure emerging from the darkness.
It was Leonid Orlov, a man Natalia had only heard about in whispers—a shadowy figure within Russian intelligence who had been presumed dead for years. He was dressed in all black, his face expressionless as he regarded Alexei and Natalia with cold, calculating eyes.
"You're out of moves, Volkov," Orlov said, his voice a low growl. "And so is she."
Natalia's mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. Leonid Orlov—here? Alive? And working with Sorokin?
"Leonid," Alexei said, his voice flat, betraying no emotion. "I should have known."
Orlov's lips curled into a smile. "You're predictable. You always were. But this time, there's no escape."
Natalia felt Alexei's hand tighten around hers, his body tensing as if preparing for a fight. But she could see it in his eyes—the realization that they were truly out of options.
And then, with a single motion, Orlov raised his gun.