The cold wind followed them down the winding, half-buried path toward the underground safehouse. Anya walked a step ahead, her thoughts still tangled in what Damian might have noticed—if he noticed anything at all.
She hadn't looked back, but she felt the weight of his stare. Heavy. Questioning.
Alek moved beside her, hands tucked into his coat pockets, head tilted up as if counting stars through the overcast sky.
"You always walk this fast, or are you trying to lose me?" he teased lightly.
Anya didn't answer right away. She slowed just enough to let him catch up, eyes forward.
"Habit," she said. "You learn to keep moving when you've been alone in enemy territory too long."
Alek didn't push. His tone shifted, softer, more grounded.
"You're not alone this time."
They reached a rusted metal door half-hidden behind a stack of firewood near the edge of an abandoned barn. Anya tapped a coded rhythm against the steel—sharp, quick knuckles. The lock clicked open, and they descended into the shadows below.
The safehouse was small but efficient: a wooden table with maps already laid out, a crate of supplies, and a narrow bed pushed against the far wall. A single overhead bulb flickered to life as Alek hit the switch.
Anya shrugged off her coat and sat at the table. Alek followed, pulling up a chair with a slight groan.
"So," he began, leaning forward with an eager glint in his eye, "tell me how we're going to trap a man surrounded by armed guards, in a compound monitored around the clock, with only two people and a backpack of tricks."
Anya didn't smile—but her eyes lit up in that way Alek was starting to recognize. The gears in her mind were already turning.
"He's overconfident," she said. "And predictable. He doesn't believe anyone would dare come close to him. That's our first advantage."
She reached for a pencil and circled a marked location on the map.
"This is where he holds private meetings. No cameras. Only one guard at the door, and only on the inside. He likes to talk without being watched."
"And you know this how?" Alek asked, one brow raised.
"I watch people," she replied simply.
He whistled low. "Remind me not to piss you off."
That made her lips twitch, almost like a smile—but not quite.
"We'll need to intercept his schedule," she continued. "Get someone to deliver a forged message that pulls him to that location at a time we control. We trap him inside. No exits. No help. Just us."
Alek leaned back, arms crossed. "And what if he doesn't come alone?"
"Then we improvise," she said. "We have to make it look like a slip—not an attack. Just a leak. A mistake."
A moment of silence passed between them. Then Alek spoke again, more thoughtful this time.
"You're good at this. Too good. Makes me wonder how many people you've outsmarted already."
She looked at him, eyes cool but unreadable. "Enough to still be alive."
He nodded slowly. "I know you think I was sent to watch you. And maybe that's true. Maybe someone didn't like how close you got to that last mission."
Anya stiffened, just slightly.
"But for what it's worth," he added, voice gentle now, "I'm not here to trap you. I'm here to work with you."
The air settled differently between them. Still cautious. Still professional. But not entirely cold.
"You'll need to keep up," she said finally.
Alek grinned. "Wasn't planning on falling behind."