His hand catches my wrist before I can move away from the table. “I’m serious, though, Zoya. Don’t poke your nose into this.” He searches my face. “Even though I know better than to think you’ll actually listen.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.
“No, you won’t.” He grips my wrist harder. “Didn’t you hear what happened?”
I still. “Hear what?”
“A reporter from our branch, Komarov,” he says, his voice clipped. “Went missing last week. They found his body in a black bag, floating off the shore.”
My eyes widen in shock.
“This is mafia work,” he says. “And unless you want to end up sealed in plastic and bobbing up in the current, I would stay very, very far away from what’s coming.” Sergei releases my wrist but does not break eye contact. “The war is already here, Zoya. The politicians are terrified that this might actually spill into the open. Alexei Romanov owns practically all of Russia and half of Europe’s underworld. Anyone stupid enough to mess with that, or anyone connected to it?” He pauses, letting his words settle. “It’s going to be bloody. For everybody.”
I take a deep breath and gather my thoughts. I understand why Sergei is like this, and I know he’s just trying to look out for me. But I’m not a baby.
Then his hand slips something into my palm.
I look down cautiously to see a folded paper.
He leans forward, keeping his voice low. “If you’re really going to do this, you need to listen to me. There’s going to be a meeting at this address at 10 PM tonight. You might have already guessed, but it’s a Georgian meeting. My sources say Levan will be there, but you need to get a disguise to blend in. If not, they’ll kill you on-site. That’s the best I can do for you.”
I nod. “Thank you. For everything.”
I turn to leave when I hear him say behind me, “Don’t thank me. Please, just stay alive.”
I walk out of the restaurant without turning around.
Chapter 41
Zoya
Ineed a disguise fast. Spotting a dingy thrift store down the street, I push open the door and step into the dim, dusty shop. Racks of forgotten clothes are jammed tightly together, and the whole place smells heavy with age. Behind the counter, a tired-looking woman looks up and notices me.
She leans over the register and gives me a weary look. "Can I help you find something specific today?"
"Yeah, I’m looking for the cheapest men’s suit you have in the building," I inform her.
She blinks in confusion, eyeing my frame. "A man’s suit?"
"Yep."
"Are you buying this for yourself?"
I let out a heavy breath, rolling my eyes. "No, it is for my pet hamster. Of course, it is for me."
She stares at me in silence for a long moment before letting out a loud sigh. "Alright then. What size are we talking about?"
"I need it to be ridiculously huge," I explain. "I want the fabric to completely swallow me whole."
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You actually want the outfit to look terrible on purpose?"
"That is the plan."
She steps out from behind the counter to guide me toward the men’s section in the back. I dig through the hangers until I find the worst suit in the entire store. The fabric is an ugly shade of gray with a ridiculously boxy shape.
"This is the one," I announce.
She winces at the sight of the garment. "That is extremely oversized for your body. We honestly have much nicer options available for you to buy."