The first light of dawn slid across the safe-house floor, pale and cold, like a truth that refused to stay buried. I hadn’t slept. Sleep belonged to people who hadn’t just dismantled an empire.

Elena moved around the small kitchen, barefoot, quiet. The sound of the kettle clicking on felt too domestic for the wreckage outside. Her hair was still damp from the shower, clinging to her neck. I tried not to stare. Tried—and failed.

“You should rest,” she said without turning.

“I don’t remember how.” I kept my voice low. “Mikhail checked in?”

She shook her head. “Radio silence for the past hour.”

That wasn’t like him. Mikhail thrived...