But Maksim doesn't hesitate. He moves forward through the gunfire, his own weapon steady in his hands. The first man goes down clean—a shot to the chest that drops him instantly. The second tries to dodge behind a support beam, but Maksim is already there.
The fight turns brutal in seconds. Maksim tackles the shooter into the concrete wall, and I hear the sickening crack of bone against stone. The man's gun skitters across the floor, but Maksim doesn't give him a chance to recover. His fist connects with the man's jaw, then again, then again. Blood spatters the wall behind them. It's all so dark, but I trust what I see. Maksim's rage is out of control.
"Zoya!" Damir's voice is closer now. "We have to go!"
I look up to see him approaching my hiding spot, his gun still in his hand. His face is desperate, wild with panic. "Come with me. Now. Before he kills us both."
"No." I don't move from behind the column. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"He's Bratva!" Damir's voice cracks. "He'll use you until you're no good to him, then throw you away. Is that what you want for your child?"
"Better than what you had planned for me." My eyes flick toward Maksim, who's locked in a brawl with Damir's second goon.
His face goes white, and for a moment, he looks exactly his age—young, lost, broken. "I never meant for you to get hurt."
"But you did hurt me." I stand up slowly, keeping the column between us. "You sold me out. You gave them my location, my schedule, everything they needed to take me."
"I had to!" The desperation in his voice is raw, animal. "They would have killed both of us if I didn't cooperate. At least this way, you had a chance."
"A chance at what? Being murdered in a warehouse fire?"
His gun wavers in his hand. "I didn't know they were going to?—"
"You knew enough." I step out from behind the column, and he immediately raises his weapon. "You knew they wanted me dead."
"Put the gun down, Damir." Maksim's voice is cold, controlled. He stands at the other end of the platform, his own weapon trained on my brother. Blood drips from his split knuckles, and his shirt is torn, but his grip is steady.
"You don't get to tell me what to do," Damir snarls. "Not with my sister."
"She's not your sister anymore." Maksim takes a step forward. "She's my wife."
"A marriage you forced on her!"
"A marriage that saved her life" —another step— "from you."
Damir's face twists with rage. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you're Karpin." Maksim's voice cuts through the space between them. "I know you've been working for them since the beginning. I know you set up the drug deal that killed our soldier."
"Prove it."
"I don't have to." Maksim nods toward the scattered papers at Damir's feet. "She already did."
My brother's gaze flickers to the documents, then back to Maksim. "Those are forged."
"The bank records? The phone logs? The witness testimony from your own contacts?" Maksim's voice is calm, deadly. "All of it forged?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you here, Damir?" I ask. "If you're innocent, why are you running?"
He turns to me, and I see the moment he breaks. His shoulders slump, and the gun in his hand drops a few inches. "Because I'm tired of lying to you."
The admission hangs in the air between us, heavy and final. I feel something inside my chest crack open—not surprise,exactly, but the confirmation of what I've known since I opened that file.
"How long?" I ask.
"Since the beginning." His voice is barely a whisper. "Since before you started working at the track. They approached me when I was seventeen, said they could make me rich if I helped them get inside the Bratva's operations."
