I can’t help but chuckle at the drama of it. I stand on my tiptoes and give him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be fine. Just send someone you trust to protect me.”
“I’m sending two men and a skilled driver - Lev and Grigori. Paul is staying with me today.” He grips my shoulders, his gaze turning deadly serious. “Just make sure you don't go too deep into their territory. Dato and I are looking for reasons to kill each other right now. I do not want you in the crossfire. Understand?”
“Understood.”
“One hour, Zoya. That’s it.”
“Alright, alright.”
He kisses me one last time before heading for the door. I walk back into the dining room where my classmates are hovering by the windows.
“Is everything okay?” Yulia asks nervously. “Is your husband mad?”
“No,” I sigh. “He just insisted we take security because the area is high-risk.”
Larisa grins, the tension breaking. “Oh, okay. Now I feel like a real celebrity. Bring on the muscle.”
We head outside to find a black SUV idling in the drive. Lev and Grigori are already waiting by the doors, standing like stone statues with their holsters clearly visible.
Kostya’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit. This is real security.”
“Get in,” I say, pointing toward the door. “We’re on a clock.”
Chapter 33
Zoya
We drive deeper into the South District, and the scenery turns increasingly bleak. The buildings grow more skeletal with every block - scarred by graffiti, jagged glass in broken windows, and trash spilling across the sidewalks.
Lev pulls the SUV over near an abandoned lot.
“Don’t go more than two blocks,” he says, his eyes already scanning the street. “Stay where we can see you.”
“Got it.”
The moment we step out of the SUV, I look around. The street is lined with grey, five-story tenements. Most of the windows are either smashed or covered with plywood. Layers of jagged graffiti cover the brickwork, and piles of trash have been left to rot on the sidewalk near a rusted dumpster.
It’s worse than I imagined. Homeless people are huddled in shadowed doorways, and a young woman sits on the curb, looking hollowed out by exhaustion while she tries to soothe a crying newborn.
Larisa stops in her tracks. “Oh, my God! I never knew it was this bad. I thought I had it rough, but wow.”
Yulia shakes her head. “There are people even worse off than us.”
“Let’s keep moving,” I say, pushing past the initial shock. “We’ll probably cover more than just the housing crisis here.”
Yegor nods. “Yeah.”
Kostya’s face is dark as he looks around. “When the rich take everything, there’s nothing left for the poor. This is what our government does.”
The first building looks like an old textile factory converted into student dorms. It has five stories of stained concrete withcracks spidering up the walls. On the left side of the gate, we see a handwritten sign taped to the wall reading ROOMS FOR RENT - 3000 RUBLES/MONTH.
We walk inside, and my senses are immediately assaulted by the smell of rot. Did something die in here?
Yulia pulls her collar up over her nose. “What’s that smell? It’s awful!”
The hallway is dark. There are no lightbulbs, just the sound of water dripping somewhere inside the walls. We start walking toward the metal stairs. They are covered in rust and creak every time we take a step.
When we get to the third floor, a girl comes out of one of the rooms. She looks about nineteen and is carrying a plastic bucket. I immediately step forward to introduce myself.