Anderson stepped off the curb, his sneakers was soaked through before he reached the crosswalk. His hoodie was pulled up over his head, his shoulders hunche

fine. That the late night headaches, the flashbacks, the shadows in the corners of his mind were not clawing back into his life again.Noah didn't talk about the nightmares. He didn't talk about the fire.Or the blood

the flames, he was walking away while his home burned down. His face had blurred ov

Viktor Mikhailov stood staring out into the rain soaked skyline. He didn't blink.

cond-in-command said qu

didn't

throat and a missing sh

r didn't say

n't ha

lov the head of the Bratva's American empire. The kind of man whose na

thoughts weren'

ssage he'd received

back. Noa

. But it lived in the back of his mind, buried un

supposed to and they tried to run. So Viktor did what he always di

e saw t

de as the fire lit up behind him. Noah di

r had let

as back. And i

barely even looked interested. By the time he stepped outside, he didn't even care anymo

d never fel

at made him feel like he was constantly being watched. Maybe it was just pa

street without

parked just across the

ed to come in person. He didn't do this anymore the surveillance,

s diff

t a chil

ied that same guarded softness, the kind that made Viktor's chest feel strangely tight. It was the

t he was here. W

shed it years ago,

e had

could not

on his tired face. He was supposed to be finishing a research paper, but his mind was

ut the box. It was old, taped on the

newspaper clippings, police statements with missing names.

ther

ope. No marki

fro

hat there. How d

de was a photograph grainy, probably from

outside the remains of his chi

breath caught in his thro

The man from

rom his n

out of the fire and

leather chair, eyes closed, glass of vodka finally

see what the boy would

this was

a lon

ame looking f

d Viktor