The world outside the SUV's tinted windows felt distant, muted—like a bad dream Natalia couldn't shake. As Sorokin's men escorted her into the backseat, the cold leather beneath her seemed to solidify the reality she was trapped in. Her pulse raced, her mind spiraling through the myriad ways this could end. None of them were good.
Sorokin slid into the seat beside her with an unsettling calmness, adjusting his cufflinks as if they were simply heading to another diplomatic meeting. His eyes flickered toward her briefly, dark and calculating.
"You're quieter than I expected, Natalia," he said, his voice a measured purr. "I thought you'd at least put up more of a fight."
She clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Her thoughts were solely on Alexei—he was still out there, fighting Orlov. Had he survived? Was he still struggling in the alleyway? The memory of the gunfire echoed in her mind, but she pushed it aside. He had to be alive. She couldn't afford to think otherwise.
Sorokin sighed, his gaze shifting to the city skyline as the SUV began to move through Kyiv's deserted early morning streets. "I suppose you'll come around in time. All of them do."
A deep sense of revulsion twisted in her gut. Natalia's hands were bound in front of her, the zip ties cutting into her wrists. She flexed them slightly, assessing her chances of loosening them, but the effort was futile. She needed to stall, to play for time.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice was calm, even as a thousand questions swirled in her mind.
Sorokin smiled—a thin, cruel curve of his lips. "You'll find out soon enough. Let's just say it's far from Kyiv. Far from Alexei."
At the mention of Alexei's name, something sharp twisted in Natalia's chest. She'd been captured, yes—but she wasn't going to make it easy for them. There had to be a way out, some opening. The vehicle slowed as it hit traffic, and she glanced around, looking for weaknesses, exits, anything.
Sorokin seemed to notice her subtle scan and let out a soft chuckle. "I wouldn't bother. You won't be able to slip away this time. Everything you thought you controlled? It's done now. Your game is over."
Natalia bit back a retort, her mind still working furiously. She didn't trust Sorokin's calm demeanor—it reeked of manipulation. But then again, wasn't that what this whole thing had been from the start? A constant game of lies and deception, where love and truth were the most dangerous cards to play.
And Alexei… where was he?
The city's streetlights blurred past as the SUV accelerated again, weaving through the thinning traffic. Natalia's chest tightened with every second that passed, every mile that distanced her from the chaos she had left behind. But the more Sorokin spoke, the more pieces started to fall into place.
"Do you really think Alexei is your knight in shining armor?" Sorokin mused, his tone almost amused. "He's a survivor, Natalia. He'll do whatever it takes to stay alive—even if it means turning on you."
She shot him a glare, anger bubbling just beneath her controlled exterior. "You don't know anything about him."
Sorokin's eyes glinted, his smirk widening. "Oh, but I do. We've watched him for years. His survival instincts have served him well, but they won't last forever. Eventually, he'll have to choose. And when that moment comes, he'll choose himself."
His words echoed ominously in her mind, and for a split second, doubt crept in. Alexei was a man who had mastered the art of survival, but would he abandon her if it meant saving himself? No. She couldn't allow herself to believe that. Not now.
The SUV slowed again, but this time, it wasn't due to traffic. Natalia glanced out the window and her pulse quickened. The vehicle turned into a dark alley, flanked by high walls and dim lights.
Something was off.
The alleyway was too secluded, too perfect for a rendezvous in the dead of night. She felt the tension in the car shift, and Sorokin's eyes narrowed.
Before she could react, the SUV jerked to a halt. The front doors swung open, and Natalia's heart leapt into her throat as Sorokin's men scrambled out, their movements too precise to be casual.
A beat of silence.
Then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire erupted from the shadows, the sharp crack of bullets splitting the night air. Sorokin cursed under his breath, ducking as the back window shattered, glass flying everywhere. Natalia instinctively shielded her face, feeling the sharp sting of glass against her skin. The SUV lurched again, and Sorokin's grip on her arm tightened.
"Stay down!" he growled.
But Natalia had other ideas. With the chaos unfolding outside, she saw her chance. Her heart pounded as she slid out of the seat, her hands still bound but her mind racing. She spotted the door handle, yanked it open, and threw herself out of the vehicle, hitting the ground hard. The cold pavement bit into her skin, but she didn't stop to feel the pain.
Run.
That was the only thought that filled her mind. Run before they find you.
Natalia scrambled to her feet, her movements clumsy with her wrists bound, but adrenaline fueled her escape. She darted between the narrow alley walls, her breath coming in sharp gasps, the sound of gunfire growing louder behind her. Every instinct told her to keep going, to get as far away from Sorokin and his men as possible.
But as she rounded the corner, she skidded to a halt, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Standing there, in the middle of the alley, was Alexei.
His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his eyes wild with the heat of the battle still raging behind him. But he was alive. Relief washed over her like a wave, but it was short-lived.
"You shouldn't have come," Alexei said, his voice tight, his hand clutching a pistol at his side. "They're coming for us."
Natalia barely had time to process his words before the alley filled with the sound of footsteps—Sorokin's men were closing in.
Alexei grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the shadows. "We have to move. Now."
As they ran deeper into the city's labyrinth of alleys and backstreets, Natalia's mind raced with questions. What was Alexei's plan? Could they outrun Sorokin and his men, or was this all just a temporary reprieve?
But there was no time for answers. Only one thing was clear—they were running out of time.