Chapter 17 - The Plan That Used MeMikhail’s plan was simple.
That was why I hated it.
I would walk outside.
Alone.
In front of Roman, the police, and the cameras.
I would pretend to surrender.
Detective Cross would use the moment to demand Misha’s welfare check on live footage. Roman would have to step closer, have to speak, have to stay inside the frame.
Then Lena would release Anya’s files to every reporter outside at once.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
Mikhail’s jaw flexed. “It is the only way to control the story.”
“You mean use me as bait.”
“Yes.”
The honesty was infuriating.
Misha grabbed my sleeve. “No.”
I crouched before him. “Hey. I’m not going with him.”
“You promise?”
There it was again.
That word.
A knife dressed like hope.
“I promise.”
Mikhail watched us with unreadable eyes.
Before I walked out, he handed me something small.
A panic button.
“If Roman touches you, press it.”
“What happens then?”
His expression did not change.
“Everything.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It is not meant to be.”
The safe-house doors opened.
Cold air hit me like a slap.
Cameras turned instantly.
Reporters shouted my name.
“Clara! Clara, did Mikhail Volkov force you to hide his son?”
“Did you kidnap the boy?”
“Are you in a relationship with Mr. Volkov?”
I almost laughed.
Roman stood beyond the police line, smiling like he already owned the ending.
“There she is,” he called gently. “Clara. You poor thing.”
I stopped ten feet from him.
Detective Cross moved beside me.
“Where is the child?” Roman asked.
“Safe,” I said.
“With a criminal?”
“With his father.”
Roman’s smile tightened.
“His father has destroyed everything he touches. Look what happened to your diner.”
I felt the cameras zoom closer.
My hands shook, but my voice did not.
“You happened to my diner.”
Murmurs rippled through the reporters.
Roman gave a sad little laugh. “Fear makes people say strange things.”
“No,” I said. “Fear makes people tell the truth when they’re tired of losing.”
Behind Roman, every reporter’s phone buzzed at once.
Anya’s files had landed.
Roman’s smile vanished.
Detective Cross turned to the cameras.
“We are reviewing new evidence in the death of Anya Volkov and the attempted abduction of Misha Volkov.”
Chaos erupted.
Roman stepped toward me.
His hand closed around my wrist.
I pressed the panic button.
Nothing exploded.
No gunfire.
No dramatic rescue.
Instead, every floodlight on the property went dark.
And in the sudden blackness, Roman whispered in my ear.
May you like
“You should have stayed invisible.”
Then someone dragged me into the night.
