The feed lagged by three minutes because it had lagged before; no one had checked what had never obviously failed to the point of drawing attention.
When the first door unlocked without protest, I showed no outward reaction. There had been no doubt in my mind whether it would open. My pulse was a steady pounding in my ears.
Some of the guards on this block were ours. Not all of them, and never the ones you’d most like to be, but enough. Enough to redirect foot traffic with a shrug, enough to look the other way when two men walked where they technically weren’t supposed to.
Bribes didn’t buy loyalty but they certainly bought you predictability, and predictability is all I needed today.
The Italians were staging their distraction on the far side of the prison — another thing we’d been planning for months. Raised voices could be heard echoing down the corridors until a fight broke out. It escalated just enough to demand the guards’ attention, but not enough to trigger a full lockdown.
Although crude compared to Hunter’s work, it was effective. The little piggies moved towards the noise like sharks smelling blood in the water. The Italians had never been subtle, but I appreciated their commitment to spectacle.
I stepped through the first corridor leading to a different cell block at a relaxed pace, with Kyrill falling in beside me without comment. He was a steady presence, but I could tell he was hyperfocused and acutely aware of our surroundings.
We passed one of our guys near the junction. Our gazes met briefly, then he looked past me, already bored. On the way through, he slipped each of us a sealed plastic bag. My rings and necklace clinked faintly together in mine. Kyrill held his earrings, chain, and the lighter he refused to lose in his.
Fuck, I’d missed wearing those.
As a pair of guards approached from the opposite direction, he lifted his hand lazily towards the wrong hallway, redirecting them with the casual authority of someone who had been here long enough not to be questioned.
The corner of my mouth lifted just a fraction.
We kept moving, sharing a brief look when the radio crackled to life somewhere nearby.
“… Unit C, confirm …”
Kyrill didn’t break stride, but I felt the shift in him. We were brushing the edge now.
As we rounded another corner, a guard I didn’t recognize stepped into our path. His posture was stiff, and his eyes were too alert for someone who was being paid to look tired. His gaze flicked to Kyrill and then back to me, the suspicion sharpening into something more dangerous.
“What are you doing here, Markov?”
I didn’t answer right away, choosing to let the silence stretch between us for a moment. Talking too quicklywould look guilty, while talking too slowly would look defiant.
I was walking a tightrope, and after letting a beat pass — just enough time for him to register annoyance rather than hesitation — I began to respond.
Kyrill on the other hand, didn’t wait. We were so attuned to each other, he knew which was the exact right moment.
He moved decisively with no wasted motion, catching the guard off balance and forcing him back against the wall. The guard fought harder than expected. His elbow drove back and caught Kyrill in the ribs.
He grunted, adjusted instantly, and slammed his forearm across the man’s throat. The guard’s hand shot for his radio. A burst of static followed by a clipped half-word.
“—hey—”
I stepped in immediately, gripping his head and twisting it until he went limp with a sharp crack of bone. Controlling the descent, I eased the body down instead of letting it drop.
The radio crackled again.
“… Unit C?”
Kyrill crushed it under his boot, the plastic snapping and splintering.
He rolled his shoulder once, working out the impact.
“Uncooperative,” Kyrill murmured under his breath.
“Very,” I agreed.
We started moving again immediately, the invisible countdown ticking away mercilessly.