Page 107 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

“Children like nonsense.”

Dmitri pours batter into a pan. The shape spreads into something with five arms and a torn side.

I lean against the counter. “That’s not a circle.”

“It was when it started.” He gives me a look. Very unfair to the pancake, apparently.

“Sure,” I say. “That matters.”

Smoke lifts from one edge.

I reach for the spatula. “You’re burning it.”

Dmitri moves at the same time, and our hands touch on the handle. Both of us stop. The pan hisses between us.

Dmitri lets go first. “Show me.”

His voice comes out rough. I slide the spatula under the pancake and flip it. Dmitri looks at my mouth. My eyes drop to his mouth, then to the sharp line of his jaw. The pan hisses between us.

“It has character,” I say, and my voice is not as steady as I want it to be.

“It’s ruined,” he says.

Mikhail appears at the entrance with his red car in one hand. “Is it done?”

I lift the pancake onto a plate and force myself to breathe. “It’s bad.”

Mikhail climbs onto the step stool and studies it. “It looks like a race track.”

Dmitri looks at him. “It does?”

Mikhail nods, serious as a judge. “This part is the turn. This part is where blue crashes.”

Dmitri takes that in. “Then it’s useful.”

Mikhail tears off a small piece and eats it. “It’s good.”

For one ridiculous second, I believe we might survive breakfast.

Then Abramov appears at the doorway, phone in hand.

His eyes go to Dmitri first.

“Patrick’s surfaced.”

24

DMITRI

Patrick surfaces through an old channel. Not in person. Not through a clean sighting. Definitely not with my hands around his throat.

Abramov finds Patrick’s trail inside an old Vostok Meridian vendor account. The account was tied to hotel renovation work. It was supposed to be dead, but Patrick had used it to hide old records.

The account connects to three things.

First, Sable Crown Courier. It moved sealed paper packets between shell companies.

Second, a charity transfer memo was copied from Elena’s foundation papers without her approval.