Page 114 of Ruin
He says nothing.
His jaw is set and his wrists are flexing against the zip ties, testing them the way a trapped animal tests the bars of a cage.
"I'm not here to hurt you." I open the folder. Inside is the printout of Anya's profile, face down. "I'm here to talk about your options."
"I have no options." His accent is thick but his English is functional. "You are Wolfe's people. I am Zhukov's. This ends one way."
"It ends several ways, actually. That's what I want to discuss." I lean back in my chair. Cross my legs. Project the kind of calm that takes effort to maintain when all I can think about is Emilia in that basement, counting the hours, wondering if anyone is coming for her. "Option one: you don't talk. Lionel comes in after me. Lionel isnota talker. Lionel is a very large man with very little patience and a toolbox that I'd rather not describe while we're being civil. You hold out for a while, because you're young and proud and you think silence makes you loyal. Eventually, you break. Everyone breaks. And then Zhukov finds out you talked, and your sister?—"
I flip the printout over. Anya's face, bright and smiling, stares up from the table between us.
Alexei goes white.
"How did you?—"
"Anya Volkova. Nineteen. First year of nursing at Odessa National Medical University. Lives in a flat on Deribasovskaya Street with a tabby cat named Misha." I recite the details without inflection. Facts. Just facts. "She posted a photo of her dinner last night. Pasta. Looked homemade."
"You don't touch her." His voice has changed. The bravado is gone. What's underneath is young and scared and exactly whatI need him to be. "She has nothing to do with this. She doesn't even know what I?—"
"I know she doesn't. And I have no interest in hurting your sister. None." I lean forward. Let him see my eyes, let him read whatever's in them. "But Zhukov does. You know how he operates. You've seen what happens to the families of people who betray him. If he finds out you're sitting in this chair, Anya doesn't matter to him. She's a message."
Silence.
His breathing has changed. Faster. Shallow.
The math he's doing behind those brown eyes is the math of a boy who left home to make money and send it back and keep his little sister safe, and every equation he runs ends in the same place.
"Option two," I say. Softer now. "You talk to me. You tell me what I need to know about the factory in Sunset Park. The layout of the basement. How many men are with the woman you're holding. What weapons they have. The security setup." I pause. "And in exchange, Anya gets a scholarship to a nursing program in Canada. New name. New documents. Far away from anyone who could use her against you."
"You can do that?"
"The man on the other side of that door can do anything." I nod toward the wall where Cassius is watching through the see-through glass. Club members use it for other purposes… but it works for this as well. "He's very motivated right now. The woman in that basement is important to someone he cares about. He'll move mountains to get her back, and he'll move your sister to Toronto with a phone call."
Alexei looks at the photo of Anya, looks at me and then looks at the door.
The struggle on his face is visible and brief, the way it always is when people realize that the choice isn't between loyalty and betrayal, but between one person's safety and another's.
"The basement has two rooms," he says quietly. "The woman is in the east room. Two guards at all times. They rotate every four hours, not eight. The building has motion sensors on the ground floor, but nothing in the basement because the pipes interfere with the signal. There's a service tunnel that connects to the sewer system on the south side. It's been sealed, but the welding is shit. A crowbar would open it."
I pull a blank sheet of paper from the folder and slide it across the table with a pen.
"Draw it," I say. "Everything you remember."
He draws.
His hands are shaking, but the lines are clear.
Two rooms. A corridor. The service tunnel. Guard positions marked with X's. Weapon storage in a closet near the east entrance.
When he's finished, I take the paper and stand.
"Anya's going to be fine," I say. "You have my word."
"Your word." He almost laughs. "I’ve heard rumors about you. Wolfe’s dog, wearing his collar."
I stop at the door and turn back.
"This collar is the most expensive piece of jewelry you'll ever see up close, and Cassius would burn this city to the ground if I asked him to." I hold his eyes until he looks away. "My word is good. Don't worry about your sister."
