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Makar returns to his chair and presses gauze against his thigh.

I study the office while Belov’s men prepare for Alexei. One guard stays behind me, and another watches the loading-hall door. Two stand near Belov. Rudenko has a pistol beneath his jacket, while Chernov carries one at his back.

The three captains along the wall carry pistols, and each has brought one armed guard.

Twelve guns that I can see.

The loading hall is behind me. A narrow fire door stands beyond Rudenko, and another door near the table leads deeper into the building. The windows have been painted black, and dried streaks run down the glass.

Belov drags an archive box from beneath the table and flips it open. He lays out several Blacklist files, then places my father’s forged debt between them. My hospital record follows, and he pulls Misha’s photograph into the center of the display.

I bite the inside of my cheek and pull my eyes from Misha’s photograph.

The gray-haired captain at the end of the wall leans forward. “The child was already on a Blacklist claim?”

“His mother was, Zaitsev,” Belov says, tapping my name. “The child follows her.”

The captain beside him rubs his thumb across a silver ring. “Maksim ended that practice.”

“You’re making a mistake, Kozlov. Maksim ended discipline,” Rudenko says from the window. “Women carry debts, children carry blood, and neither becomes harmless because Elena Volkov dislikes the rules.”

I look at him. “Is that what you told your daughter when you used her to reach Gurin?”

Rudenko’s hand moves beneath his jacket.

Belov turns his head. “Leave the doctor untouched.”

“You knew about my daughter?” Rudenko asks, keeping his hand near the pistol.

“Gurin talked,” I say, watching his face. “Men usually do once Dmitri takes them downstairs.”

Rudenko glances at Belov before returning his attention to me, and Zaitsev sees it.

Belov lifts Misha’s photograph. “This boy changes the Volkov balance. Alexei Orlov has no wife, no acknowledged child, and no reason to place one life above the organization. Now he has both a son and a woman who controls access to him.”

“I don’t control Alexei,” I say, keeping my shoulders straight. “Nobody does.”

Chernov gives a quiet laugh. “Every man can be controlled.”

“That explains why Belov bought you.”

His laughter stops.

Tarasov, the youngest captain, looks down at his hands while the man beside him studies the bruises around my wrists.

Belov places the photograph beside the Blacklist file. “Maksim’s weakness began when he let Elena destroy the old claims. Dmitri followed him and brought an American woman into the family. Now Alexei risks captains, routes, and men for a surgeon who hid his child.”

“You burned my home,” I say, stepping as far forward as the guard allows. “You murdered Marina, forged my father’s name, and sent men to fire on an ambulance you believed held a three-year-old.”

Kozlov looks at Belov. “Your men fired on the child?”

“The boy wasn’t inside,” Chernov says quickly.

“You didn’t know that,” I reply.

Belov stays calm. “You kept Alexei’s son hidden from the captains. Now they’re wondering what else you’ve kept from them.”

“He’s three,” I say.