Page 96 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

In a hurry and half-asleep, Mikhail forgot the one thing that can keep him moving. Kathryn fumbles with the bag, pulls out the little red car, and presses it into his fist. The change is instant. Mikhail still cries, but his hand closes around the toy, and his feet move when Kathryn pulls him toward the hall.

A man shouts from the front feed. “Movement at street entrance. Four men.”

Dmitri turns toward the left screen. “Rear exit. Leave the bags. Child first.”

Kathryn’s voice cracks through my phone. “Cara, what’s happening?”

My mouth goes dry. “Walk with them. Don’t stop.”

The body camera jolts down the rear stairs. Mikhail sobs. Kathryn keeps saying his name under her breath. Each time she says it, Dmitri’s hand tightens on the table.

Another feed shows three men entering through the front of the building. They move fast with their heads down, heading for Kathryn’s floor. The fourth stays near the street door, watching the block.

The Boston lead speaks fast. “Hostiles entering front stairs. Team Two moving to block.”

Dmitri’s voice stays flat. “No fire near the child unless there’s no other way. Rear vehicle only. Keep the boy between Kathryn and the wall.”

A shot cracks through the audio. I almost forget to breathe. Elena’s hand comes down over my shoulder, firm enough to keep me in the chair.

On the front hall feed, Patrick’s men fire first. One Volkov man hits the wall and drops. Another man returns two low shots, then grabs him by the vest and pulls him back.

“Team Two holding second-floor landing,” the Boston lead says.

Kathryn and Mikhail are already below them. Patrick’s crew reaches Kathryn’s apartment seconds after she and Mikhail leave that floor through the rear stairs. The door blows inward.

The apartment is empty. One of Patrick’s men shouts, and they turn back toward the rear of the building. Gunfire starts again in the hall.

For one second, I’m glad they found nothing. Then Mikhail cries again, and I sit straighter in the chair.

The rear feed swings toward a waiting car. Kathryn climbs in first, then pulls Mikhail after her. The Boston lead stands between the open door and the alley while another man checks past the bumper.

“Move,” Dmitri says.

One Volkov man gets in beside them and locks the door. The Boston lead taps the roof twice, jumps into the front seat, and the car starts moving. He comes back on audio. “Package secured. Child scared, crying, unhurt. Walsh unharmed.”

Dmitri closes his eyes for one second. When he opens them, he starts giving orders.

“Men back from him. Weapons out of sight. Let Walsh sit close. No one says his name over open comms. Female medic at the safehouse if we have one.”

Abramov repeats the orders into another line.

Dmitri looks at the screen again. “Let him keep his shoes and backpack. Don’t take anything from his hands.”

My fingers twist together in my lap. Those are things I would have asked for if anyone had given me time to speak, and hearing Dmitri say them first makes my chest hurt in a way I’m not ready for.

Kathryn comes back on the phone from the moving car. Her voice shakes so hard I can barely understand her. “Where are you? Who are these men? What happened? Cara, what did Evan do?”

I look at the screen, where Mikhail’s head is buried against her side. “Evan talked to Patrick. Patrick used him. He found Mikhail’s clinic, and after that, I couldn’t trust the apartment anymore.”

Kathryn’s breathing turns rough. “The clinic?”

“It was a warning,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Your place, his school route, my backup contacts, all of it may be dirty now.”

Kathryn says nothing for a few seconds. I only hear the car engine through the line. Then she whispers, “Silly Evan.”

I swallow. “Yes.”

Mikhail grabs for the phone, and Kathryn lets him.