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Vera catches my sweater. “I’m coming.”

“Stay behind me.” I raise the pistol.

“No.” She steps beside my shoulder.

We cross the sitting area together.

The closet door looks closed, but the latch hasn’t caught. Through the narrow gap, something shifts behind the lower shelves. I secure the pistol at the back of my waist and crouch, pain darkening the edges of my sight. I wait until the floor steadies, then tap twice against the wood.

“The yellow car needs fuel,” I say, keeping my voice level.

Nothing moves.

Vera’s fingers close around my shoulder.

A small voice answers from behind the door. “Who has fuel?”

“Alexei,” I answer.

The door opens two inches, then farther.

Misha stands behind stacked sheets with the yellow car pressed against his chest. His face is wet, his hair stuck to his forehead, and he hasn’t made another sound since the first scream.

He sees me, drops the car, and runs straight into my arms.

I bend toward him and catch him with one arm, bracing my other hand against the shelf when he hits my chest. Pain splits through my abdomen, but his arms are already around my neck and his face is buried against my shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” I say, holding the back of his head. “You’re safe.”

His body shakes against mine.

“Papa,” he says into my sweater.

My arms close around him, and the pain drops away. Vera makes a broken sound behind me, but I hold him tighter because letting go is no longer possible.

“Papa,” Misha says again, gripping my collar.

“I’m here,” I tell him, turning my face into his hair. “I’m here.”

Gunfire erupts from the lower corridor.

I pull Vera into the closet with my free hand. She takes Misha against her chest, but he keeps one fist locked in my sweater. I draw the pistol again and aim it at the closet entrance until the footsteps stop outside.

“Alexei,” Dmitri calls.

I open the door. Dmitri stands in the sitting area with Dima and two armed guards behind him. Blood marks one sleeve, but he moves without favoring either arm.

“Four dead,” he says. “Sergei has the fifth alive. The pool passage is sealed, and no one reached the exterior gates.”

“Who sent them?”

Dmitri holds up a burner phone inside an evidence bag. “There are messages from Semyon Vlasov.”

“Belov’s aide,” Vera says from behind me.

“The same man Gurin sold Marina’s information to.” Dmitri nods. “There’s also a message from a number Yuri matched to Gurin’s girlfriend.”

Vera tightens her hold on Misha. “The captain’s daughter.”