Page 74 of Chain Me

The delivery truck lurches as I take another sharp turn, the engine protesting under the strain. In the passenger seat, Alexi grips the dashboard, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees.

“Next time we steal a truck, let’s make sure the drivers don’t have military training,” Dmitri mutters from behind us.

“They weren’t supposed to fight back.” I check the mirrors again. No pursuit yet, but that won’t last. “How long before they reach a phone?”

“Ten minutes at the most. Five if they flag down help.” Nikolai adjusts his tactical vest. “Either way, we’re compromised.”

The commandeering had gone sideways from the start. What should have been a quiet takedown turned into a brawl when the lead driver pulled a knife. By the time we subdued them, both men had escaped into the industrial district behind us.

“Security systems are still down,” Alexi reports, fingers flying across his keyboard. “But if those drivers reach Igor before we’re inside...”

“They won’t matter.” I take the final turn toward the Lebedev estate. “We’ll be gone before anyone can respond.”

The compound appears ahead—gray stone walls rising like a fortress against the Moscow skyline. I’ve studied every inch of this place for three days, memorized every guard rotation, every blind spot. The service entrance should be locked down tight.

Instead, the gates swing open as we approach.

I hit the brakes, scanning for threats. “That’s not right.”

“Maybe the timing worked out.” Dmitri checks his weapon. “Delivery was scheduled for nine-thirty.”

“Or it’s a trap.” Nikolai’s voice carries the edge of combat readiness. “Could be the drivers already called it in.”

I ease forward, the truck rolling through the entrance. The courtyard beyond looks normal—a few maintenance workers and some kitchen staff moving between buildings. No obvious signs of alarm.

“Systems are clean,” Alexi confirms. “No internal alerts, no lockdown protocols.”

But something feels wrong. The guards at the gate barely glanced at us, and now I can see one of them in my side mirror, walking fast toward our truck. Not running, but moving with purpose.

“We’ve got company.” I keep my voice level as the guard approaches from behind. “Single target, closing fast.”

The man raises his hand, calling out something I can’t hear through the engine noise. He is not drawing a weapon, but his posture suggests a sense of urgency.

“Could be routine,” Dmitri says. “Wrong truck, wrong entrance.”

The guard breaks into a jog, waving for us to stop.

“Crossed wires,” Nikolai agrees. “He’s trying to redirect us to a different delivery bay.”

I slow the truck, calculating distances to the main building. Katarina is somewhere in that maze of stone and steel, and every second we waste gives Igor more time to discover our deception.

The guard motions us toward a loading bay on the eastern side of the compound. I follow his directions, gravel crunching under the truck’s wheels as we navigate between service vehicles.

“Bay seven,” I mutter, reading the faded numbers above the concrete platform. “Different from what we planned.”

“Adaptable,” Nikolai says. “We work with what we get.”

I back the truck up to the loading dock, the beeping alarm echoing off the warehouse walls. Two kitchen workers emerge from the building, clipboards in hand, looking bored and routine.

“Dmitri, Alexi—you’re unloading.” I cut the engine. “Nikolai and I will circle around to the main building once you’ve established your position.”

My brothers nod, pulling on work caps and grabbing the first few boxes from the truck bed. The kitchen staff barely glances at them, more interested in checking items off their lists than examining faces.

I climb down from the driver’s seat, scanning the compound. The main house rises three stories ahead of us, Katarina, somewhere behind those stone walls. Every window could be hers, every shadow?—

Shouts erupt from the direction of the main gate.

“Fuck.” I spin toward the commotion. Guards are running across the courtyard, radios crackling with urgent voices. Someone barks orders about unauthorized personnel, demanding a full lockdown.

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