The rain was heavy, washing the ashes of the night away.
Natalia leaned her head against the window, her reflection flickering in the glass as Dimitri drove through the twisting mountain road. The wipers fought to keep up, their rhythmic scrape cutting through the silence between them.
Neither of them had spoken to each other since the woods.
Dimitri's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale against the leather. His shirt was torn, a streak of dried blood running down his arm, but his expression remained unreadable and cold. The man beside her was a soldier born from chaos, molded by loss.
Natalia studied him in the faint glow of the dashboard. The shadows carved his face into something sharp and unreadable. Once, that face had meant safety. Now, it carried the memory of loss and betrayal.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, and calm. "You should rest."
She gave a humorless laugh. "Rest? After tonight?"
He did not answer. The only sound was the growl of the engine and the distant rumble of thunder.
They reached an abandoned checkpoint near the border. The metal gate was half-rusted, and a faded Bratva insignia clung stubbornly to one post, like a ghost. Dimitri stopped the car.
"Get out," he said quietly.
Natalia stepped into the downpour without argument. The cold rain stung her skin, soaking through her jacket. Dimitri came around the car, his movements deliberate, every motion speaking of control.
"Why are we here?" she asked, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"There is someone we need to see. An old friend of mine,he owes me a favor."
He led her down a hidden trail that wound through the forest, their boots crunching over wet gravel. The rain was relentless, muting the world to shades of gray and thunder.
After ten minutes, a cabin emerged from the fog,it was small, sturdy, and alive with a faint glow from within. Smoke rose from its crooked chimney, curling into the storm.
Dimitri knocked twice, paused, then once more. The door opened a crack. A tall man with a scar running from temple to jaw peered out, eyes narrowing as recognition dawned.
"Volkov," he muttered. "You are supposed to be dead."
Dimitri smirked faintly. "That makes two of us, Arman."
The door opened wider. "Come in before the storm buries you."
Inside, the cabin smelled of gun oil and old tobacco. Maps covered the walls, marked with pins and red strings. A single bulb flickered overhead.
Arman closed the door behind them and glanced at Natalia. "And this must be the girl who turned your world upside down."
"She is not just a girl," Dimitri said flatly.
Natalia arched an eyebrow. "I can speak for myself."
Arman chuckled. "Feisty, you will need that."
He poured vodka into three chipped glasses and slid one toward each of them. "To the living," he said.
Dimitri didn't drink. "We did not come for nostalgia."
Arman's smile faded. He leaned on the table, eyes hard. "You are not safe, Volkov. None of us are. Sergei's empire is still running stronger than ever. The Phoenix Protocol,it is already been activated."
Natalia frowned. "The Phoenix Protocol? What is that?"
Dimitri's jaw clenched. "A contingency plan. If Sergei died, his lieutenants would rebuild his network from the ashes."
Arman nodded. "And they are already moving. Two nights ago, encrypted signals were sent from Prague and Moscow. They include contracts, shipments, names and they were all under your father's seal."
Natalia stared at him. "You are saying Sergei's empire is alive?"
"Alive," Arman said, "and evolving. Someone's funding it,someone high up. Interpol,it could be your father or maybe even your agency. A mole is feeding them information."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Dimitri leaned back slowly, eyes dark. "Then this is not anywhere near the end. "
"No," Arman said. "It is just beginning."
Silence fell again, broken only by the hum of the rain on the roof. Natalia felt the chill creeping up her spine, but it was not just the storm. It was the realization that Sergei's was still out there, pulling strings from behind the scenes.
Finally, she turned to Dimitri. "What do we do now?"
He met her gaze, the flickering light catching in his eyes. "We find the mole and we cut off the head before the body grows back."
Her breath came slower and steadier. She could see the war inside him,the man torn between vengeance and redemption.
She stepped closer. "You really think you can kill a ghost?"
He gave a faint, humorless smile. "I've been one too many times to know how."
Their eyes locked and the air thickened between them, charged with everything they had not said since the second explosion that threatened to end them both.She saw it then,the flicker of something beneath his stoic mask. Regret, fear, she couldn't tell what it was.
When he reached out, his fingers brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek. The touch was fleeting, but it burned.
"You should not have followed me," he murmured.
"You shouldn't have left me," she answered.
The words hung between them, heavy and raw. For a heartbeat, the storm outside faded. All that existed was the space between them, the distance neither had dared to cross until now.
He exhaled slowly, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. "You are the only thing that still feels real."
Her pulse quickened. "Then don't lose me again."
He did not.
Dimitri pulled her in, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was desperate, fierce, and trembling with everything they'd both tried to bury. The taste of rain lingered between them, their breaths uneven and their hearts beating out of rhythm.
When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers. "We must leave before dawn," he whispered. "They will come for us."
Arman cleared his throat, pretending not to have noticed. "You will need weapons, passports and untraceable transport."
He turned, rummaging through a chest. "And this came for you two days ago," he said, tossing a sealed envelope onto the table. "No return address."
Dimitri hesitated, then picked it up. The seal was black, an eye surrounded by flames.
Natalia felt her stomach drop. "What is that?"
"Sergei's symbol," Dimitri said quietly. "But inverted."
He tore it open. Inside was a photograph.
It was of them,Natalia and Dimitri,standing by the cabin door, taken from a sniper's angle.
Her blood ran cold.
Dimitri turned the photo over. On the back, in red ink, were the words:
> "The game is not over, welcome to the second phase."
Lightning flashed outside, white and violent. Arman reached for his gun instinctively, scanning the windows.
"They know you are here," he said grimly.
Dimitri's expression hardened. He tucked the photo into his coat and turned to Natalia. "Pack what you need because we are leaving right now"
Natalia's throat felt dry. "Where will we go?"
"Somewhere they will not expect," he said.
As she gathered her things, she looked back once more. Dimitri stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the storm. There was something haunting about him,like a man who had made peace with his own damnation.
And yet, when he turned to her, there was a spark of something fragile in his eyes. Hope, maybe. Or the memory of it.
For the first time since the explosion, Natalia realized she wasn't just fighting to survive. She was fighting for him.
Outside, thunder rolled like distant gunfire. The war was not over yet. It had only changed names.