Page 85 of The Bratva's Secret Baby
24
DOMINIK
The house is quiet when I wake, the kind that means everyone’s still asleep and will stay that way if I don’t make noise. I make coffee and drink it at the counter, watching the yard get brighter bit by bit. Even before the sun comes up over the ridge, the wind carries salt and wet stone from the coast.
I go back to what I left unfinished.
I start with routes that close the loop instead of widening it. If this ends, it ends where the claim started. I map the roads the way I always do. Ways in that look casual. Ways out that cut through places nobody remembers. Three ways into Saint Petersburg, five ways out, none of them direct. Fuel stops where nobody looks twice. Turnoffs where you can slow down without making it obvious.
I write it all down, then go over it again, changing the order until the movement makes sense, not just the map.
By the time the cup is empty, the plan feels workable. I wash the mug, dry it, and put it back in the rack, then change my mind and pour a second cup.
I take out the pen and paper again and write down names, streets, houses, addresses. We need a second place now, something in place before the marriage starts drawing more eyes.
I pick a place that already exists and already runs on its own. It isn’t safe because no one knows it. It’s safe because no one pays attention to it. People go in and out all day and forget it the minute they leave.
I settle on one address, mark the entry points, and write the rules I’ll use for it. No one goes there without my word. No phones inside. No one uses names at the door.
I keep it tight. The only person who knows the place is the one who keeps it running, and he doesn’t get the full picture. He gets cash and a simple story when we arrive.
I walk out to the veranda. The small backyard is starting to fill with sunlight, and the birds are already calling. Ana will be up any minute, and I need a cover story ready.
Marriage isn’t a disguise. It gives us a place to stand. I can’t act like we’re trying to disappear, since that only makes people look harder. I have to act like we made a choice and expect people to accept it. That means moving normally, not in a rush. Eating where people can see us. Going to meetings and leaving without drama. Moving through places like we belong there. It puts eyes on us, but it also makes it harder for people to come at us openly.
I plan for the eyes. I write my name once on the paper.Nikolai Sokolov.
I write it down again in the notebook, then underline it once. Changing it now would be stupid. That name is already everywhere it needs to be, on the marriage record, work papers, residency, clinic forms, and Mila’s file. If I change it again, it breaks the line and makes people look closer.
I set the pen aside and look toward the hallway. The house is still quiet. I walk to Mila’s room and check in. She’s still asleep, one arm over the blanket, breathing deep and even.
When I come back, I stop at the bedroom door.
Ana is asleep on her side, one hand tucked under the pillow, hair across her cheek, the sheet twisted around her legs. There’s a faint mark at her shoulder where I kissed her last night. She doesn’t stir when I stand there.
I go back to the table and sit down.
When I go back to Saint Petersburg, I won’t go in like a man trying to slip through cracks. I’ll go as Nikolai Sokolov, married, employed, easy to place, and not alone.
I stare at the wall for a second, then pull the notebook closer and start writing again.
I’m not trying to outrun the system now. I’m making it deal with me. At this point, there are only two ways this works. You’re invisible and people leave you alone, or you’re visible and too expensive to touch.
Ana and Mila took the first option off the table, so I’m choosing the second, and once I do that, visibility starts working for us.
I plan for the attention without making a show of it. I let the right people notice on their own while I register temporary residency, show up at one meeting for a normal security job,and let my name come up once in a way that says I’m here, I’m legitimate, and I’m settled.
I assume betrayal from the start, because anything else gets people killed. This isn’t carelessness. It’s the move. I’m not protecting an asset anymore. I’m protecting my family, and that means I leave a trail on purpose.
I know Ana may look at the clinic and the paperwork and see exposure. I get it. Once we were there, I made sure our names, signatures, and records were in the room too. Now the record says I’m Mila’s father. Good.
The council isn’t looking for one fast move. It’s watching, waiting, and building something it can use later. That’s why I leaned into paperwork, witnesses, and time.
Ana sees the risk in being visible. I see what they’re doing with it, and that gives me room to move first.
I used to stay alive by disappearing. That’s over. Now I stay ahead by making their choices smaller.
By the time Ana comes into the kitchen, I’ve already closed the notebook and put it away. I hear her before I look up. She fills the kettle, sets it on the stove, and waits. Then she comes to the table with a cup of tea and sits across from me.
