He nodded. "Volkov."
There was no immediate hostility. He'd read everything about this man. All the reports, all the information on past encounters. And yet, something about meeting in person was disquieting him. It wasn't the man that frightened him, it was something else.
Mikhail's eyes swept over him, dropping to Leila. "And this must be your wife."
Leila stood her ground and met his gaze. She didn't move closer, didn't step back. She only watched.
"Leila Crete," Sergei mused. "So the rumors are true. Mikhail, we should go give that one a try, conquer our enemies and bring their women in as wives."
"Net nichego sladshche," Makros answered smoothly.(There's nothing sweeter.)
Mikhail chuckled. "A bold move. Your father must've been proud."
Makros bristled before smoothing it out. He let the comment pass with a jerk of his head. The Volkovs did not follow it up.
Mikhail motioned to the building. "Come on. Let's talk inside."
There was a reek of rust and the smell of old oil when they went in. It was the kind that seeped into the walls of such places. There was a single bulb above that cast broken, elongated shadows over the concrete floor.
Mikhail leaned against a steel table, arms crossed, his expression impassive. "Let's proceed. We called this meeting because there's still business between us that needs to be resolved."
Makros remained expressionless. "You're talking about the shipment."
Mikhail smiled. "That's right."
Makros tilted his head to one side. "Half was delivered. The other half didn't show up because someone sabotaged our mission."
Mikhail looked at Sergei and then at him. "You're forgetting something."
Makros exhaled through his nose. "Aleksei."
Mikhail's face darkened. "Finally." His fingers drummed once on the table before remaining motionless. "We know he escaped."
Makros curled his fingers. "Again, someone sabotaged that too."
Mikhail's eyes glinted with something more than amusement. "You still owe us. Malysh."
The name hit like a dissonance in a melody. Makros did not flinch, but his mind spun rapidly. Malysh? There was no record of a deal with that name. Was it a person? A code?
Then it finally hit him.
"Malysh? Honestly?" Makros raised an eyebrow, faking a knowing smile. "That was more than a year ago, Volkov. Figured you were beyond sentiment."
Then Mikhail smiled, shaking his head. "Fair enough."
The tension relaxed, but not much.
"You want Aleksei back," Leila stated boldly. "That means either he's useful to you. or he's dangerous."
Mikhail turned to her, interest shining in his cold eyes. "And what do you think?"
She lifted her head a little, her eyes serene. "I think that if this was about a missing man, you wouldn't be bringing it to the table. So how much is he really worth?"
Sergei's lips curled, gratified. "She's smart."
"She's observant," Makros restated, not looking at her. But he noted it—the way she had steered the subject, redirected attention from himself when he needed it most. He would never forget it.
Mikhail held Leila's gaze for another second before his smile evaporated. "It's not what he's worth that matters. It's what he knows."
