Chapter 7 - The Brother in the Shadows
Peter chose an abandoned church on Chicago’s West Side.
Appropriate, I thought.
Men like him always seemed to believe God owed them dramatic scenery.
Vadim wanted twenty armed men.
I wanted Cleo.
We compromised at six.
It was still six too many.
When we entered, Peter stood near the altar.
Cleo and Misha were nowhere visible.
“Where are they?”
Peter smiled.
“The drive.”
I held it up.
“My daughter first.”
“Still stubborn. Daniel complained about that.”
“You murdered him.”
Peter sighed.
“Your father confused morality with courage.”
Vadim shifted beside me.
“Where is Nikolai?”
Peter’s smile changed.
“Closer than you think.”
A gun clicked behind us.
Anton.
My stomach dropped.
He aimed directly at Vadim.
“No.”
I whispered it.
Anton looked miserable.
“I’m sorry.”
Vadim stared at the man who had protected him for twelve years.
“How long?”
“Since Elena.”
Vadim’s face hardened.
“You helped kill her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I helped Nikolai survive.”
Everything stopped.
Anton lowered the weapon.
Then turned it toward Peter.
Men appeared along the church balcony.
Nikolai stepped from the shadows.
Peter’s smile disappeared.
For the first time, the old man looked afraid.
Nikolai walked down the aisle.
Vadim stared at him.
Six years of grief stood between them.
“You’re alive.”
Nikolai stopped.
“Yes.”
“You let me bury an empty coffin.”
“I thought you ordered the fire.”
Vadim flinched.
“And I thought you were dead.”
Peter began moving backward.
Anton aimed higher.
“Don’t.”
Nikolai explained quickly.
Peter had convinced him Vadim wanted control.
He had shown forged orders.
Transferred money.
Manufactured evidence.
After the warehouse attack, Nikolai survived and disappeared.
Years later, he discovered the truth.
“But why attack Misha?”
Vadim demanded.
“I didn’t.”
Nikolai looked at Peter.
“He did.”
Peter had arranged the convoy ambush.
He needed Misha frightened enough to identify Nikolai, knowing it would drag both brothers back into conflict.
“But Reese?” I asked.
Nikolai looked at me.
“That was Peter too.”
The entire chain had been engineered.
Misha redirected to my hospital.
My name exposed.
Threats staged.
Every road leading toward the drive.
Peter suddenly smiled again.
“You’re forgetting something.”
He lifted a small remote.
My heart stopped.
“Where are the children?”
“Different building.”
His thumb hovered over a button.
“Give me the drive.”
I did.
Vadim stared at me.
I ignored him.
Peter caught it.
“Good girl.”
Then he pressed the button anyway.
Nothing happened.
Peter frowned.
I smiled.
“That isn’t the drive.”
For the first time, he looked at me with genuine surprise.
“You think nurses don’t know how to label decoys?”
Vadim almost laughed.
Peter lunged toward me.
Gunfire erupted.
Vadim pulled me down.
Anton fired.
Peter disappeared behind the altar.
Then smoke filled the church.
A side door slammed.
By the time we reached the alley, Peter was gone.
But he had left his phone.
And on it was a live camera feed.
Cleo.
Misha.
Locked inside a room.
A digital timer beside them showed twenty-three minutes.
Below the screen were coordinates.
Vadim looked at Nikolai.
“You know the building?”
Nikolai nodded.
“Old pharmaceutical warehouse.”
We ran.
For the first time, the Sorokin brothers fought together.
The warehouse was twelve minutes away.
Vadim drove in eight.
Police vehicles suddenly appeared behind us.
“Peter’s people?” I asked.
“Probably.”
Then more vehicles blocked the intersection.
Federal agents.
We were trapped between two forces and had fifteen minutes left.
Vadim reached for his weapon.
I stopped him.
“What if they’re real?”
“What if they aren’t?”
I remembered the drive.
The names.
One federal agent named repeatedly in my father’s files.
Assistant Director Samuel Greene.
A man walked toward our SUV.
Samuel Greene.
“Don’t open the door,” I whispered.
Vadim looked at me.
“How sure?”
“Enough.”
He reversed.
Bullets hit the windshield.
That answered the question.
Nikolai’s SUV rammed a police cruiser aside.
We broke through.
Nine minutes.
The warehouse appeared.
We entered through the loading dock.
Seven minutes.
I heard Cleo crying.
“Mommy!”
I ran toward her voice.
Vadim caught me before I crossed a doorway.
A thin wire stretched across it.
Trap.
He cut it.
Four minutes.
We found the children inside a refrigerated storage room.
A canister hissed beside them.
Not poison.
Nitrogen.
It was slowly displacing oxygen.
Vadim smashed the lock.
I dragged Cleo out.
Nikolai grabbed Misha.
Cleo clung to me.
“You came.”
“Always.”
Behind us, a shot rang out.
Vadim staggered.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Peter stood at the end of the corridor.
Gun raised.
He aimed again.
At me.
Nikolai fired first.
Peter fell.
Vadim collapsed into my arms.
His blood covered my hands.
“Stay with me.”
His eyes struggled to focus.
“Reese.”
“I’m here.”
“Cleo?”
“Safe.”
“Misha?”
“Safe.”
A faint smile.
“Then I did one thing right.”
“No.”
I pressed my hands against the wound.
“You don’t get to make that your final sentence.”
May you like
His eyes closed.
And for the first time since meeting Vadim Sorokin, I screamed his name.
