Dawn came pale and bruised, seeping through the cracks of the clouds. The storm had passed, but its echoes lingered in the air, the smell of rain, and the kind of silence that felt like a held breath before something shatters.
Natalia followed Dimitri through the mist as they made their way down a gravel path that led to a secluded airstrip. Arman had kept his promise, he had provided them with two forged passports, a duffel bag full of unmarked bills, and a small pistol that fit perfectly in her palm.
He had also given them a warning.
"Whoever is running the Phoenix Protocol now knows your faces. Don't trust anyone, not even the people you once saved."
Those words had stayed with her all through the night. Now, as the hum of a waiting plane filled the cold morning, they echoed louder.
The pilot was a quiet man with tired eyes. He did not ask questions when Dimitri handed him the envelope of cash. Within minutes, the old aircraft lifted off, the ground vanishing beneath them like a memory that was being forgotten.
Natalia stared out the window, the horizon a wash of gray and gold. Below them stretched endless forests and rivers, a country she no longer recognized. Dimitri sat beside her, silent as ever, eyes fixed on something far beyond the clouds.
"Where are we going?" she finally asked.
"Palermo," he said. "There is an old contact there, someone who used to handle my father's offshore accounts. If anyone knows who is funding the Phoenix Protocol, it's him."
She arched a brow. "And we can trust him?"
Dimitri's mouth curved slightly, a shadow of a smile. "Trust is not the right word. But fear can make a man talk."
The plane hit turbulence, and she instinctively reached out, her hand brushing his. For a second, neither moved. The world narrowed to the space between their fingers, like a truce
He did not pull away.
They landed just after noon in a private field outside Palermo. The air was thick with sea salt and heat, a stark contrast to the cold Russian forests they had left behind. Palm trees swayed in the wind, and the city glittered in the distance like an illusion.
They found shelter in a decaying villa overlooking the water. The walls were cracked and the windows dusty, but it offered something they had not had in weeks silence.
Natalia dropped her bag by the couch and looked around. "This place looks like it's been abandoned for years."
Dimitri checked the locks. "That is why it's perfect."
She watched him move, his movement was precise and at alert. Always scanning, always calculating. It should have made him seem cold, but somehow, it only made her feel safer. And that terrified her more than the people hunting them.
When he was done, he turned toward her. "You should rest. We are meeting the contact at sundown."
"I'm fine," she said, though her body ached with exhaustion.
He gave her a long look, then poured two glasses of water and handed her one. "Fine doesn't mean unbreakable."
"Neither does being a Volkov," she shot back.
His lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement she had seen from him in days. "You have been spending too much time around me."
She took a sip, her eyes never leaving his. "Maybe that's the problem."
He set his glass down and came closer, the space between them shrinking with every step. The air seemed to thicken around them, charged with all the things they hadn't said.
"You think I wanted this?" he asked quietly. "You think I wanted to drag you into my father's war?"
"I think," she whispered, "you stopped seeing a way out a long time ago."
He looked away then, jaw tightening. "There isn't one."
She reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve. "Then we make one."
For a heartbeat, his resolve cracked. His hand came up, resting lightly at the back of her neck, not to pull her in, but to steady himself.
"You make me forget the things I should remember," he said softly.
"And you make me remember the things I should forget."
The silence between them thickened, not empty, but heavy with unspoken things. The ocean roared in the distance, waves colliding like hearts at war.
Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back. The soldier returned, burying the man.
"Pack light," he said. "We leave in an hour."
By sundown, they were seated across from a man named Luca Romano in a dimly lit café near the port. Luca was in his sixties, his silver hair slicked back, his gold watch gleaming against his sun-browned skin. He looked every inch the respectable businessman, which meant he was dangerous.
"Volkov," Luca greeted, his Italian accent smooth as oil. "When they told me you were alive, I didn't believe it. And now you bring company." His eyes flicked to Natalia. "Beautiful company."
Dimitri's expression didn't change. "She is not company. She's the reason I'm still breathing."
Luca smiled thinly. "Then let's make sure that doesn't change."
He gestured to a folder on the table. "Your father's empire was built on fear, loyalty, and silence. But his last project, the Phoenix Protocol, was built on betrayal. Someone sold him out before the end. Someone close."
Natalia leaned forward. "Who?"
Luca opened the folder, revealing a list of names, photos, and wire transfers. "These are the investors funding the second phase of the Protocol. One stands out, codename Specter. Anonymous accounts, encrypted messages routed through Interpol servers."
"Interpol," Dimitri repeated, his voice like a blade.
Luca nodded. "And whoever Specter is… they have access to both criminal networks and intelligence agencies. They know every move you make before you do."
Natalia's stomach tightened. "Then we are already compromised."
Luca's eyes gleamed. "Perhaps. But there's more. Specter isn't working alone. He's using Sergei's unfinished data files, and those files were last accessed from your agency's mainframe, Natalia."
Her blood ran cold. "That is impossible."
"Impossible?" Luca tilted his head. "Or inevitable?"
Before Dimitri could speak, a sharp crack echoed from outside, a gunshot. The café window shattered, glass spraying across the table.
"Down!" Dimitri shouted, pulling Natalia to the floor as a second shot whistled past.
Chaos erupted. Luca dove behind the counter. Dimitri rolled, gun in hand, scanning the rooftops. Another shot, then silence.
Only the crash of waves against the dock filled the air.
Natalia's pulse hammered. "Are they gone?"
"For now," he said, helping her up. "But they found us again."
He turned to Luca. "You stay hidden. Send the files to the old channel. We'll take it from here."
Luca hesitated. "Volkov, there's something you should know. Specter's next move is not about rebuilding the empire. It's about rewriting it."
"What do you mean?"
Luca's gaze flicked to Natalia. "He's not just after control. He's after her."
---
They fled into the narrow streets, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. The city lights reflected off the wet cobblestones, turning everything into a blur of gold and red.
Dimitri led the way, his hand gripping hers as they ran. They didn't stop until they reached the villa again, both of them breathless, soaked in sweat and rain.
Natalia leaned against the wall, chest heaving. "They knew we would be there. Luca's right, there is a leak inside Interpol."
Dimitri nodded, eyes sharp. "Specter."
She looked up at him. "Why me? What does he want with me?"
He hesitated, and in that pause, she saw it. Fear. Real, unguarded fear.
"Because," he said slowly, "you're the last part of the code. Sergei designed the Phoenix Protocol to activate through biometric access, and your father's data is tied to your DNA."
Natalia froze. "My father? But he.."
"Died trying to destroy it," Dimitri finished. "And now someone is trying to use you to bring it back."
The words hit harder than any bullet. Everything she thought she knew about her father, about Sergei, about Dimitri, all of it twisted into something darker.
The ocean wind howled through the broken shutters. Dimitri stepped closer, eyes searching hers. "We will stop them, Natalia. I swear it."
She nodded, though her voice trembled. "And if we can't?"
He touched her cheek, his hand steady. "We have to"
Their eyes met, fierce, defiant, and filled with something that felt dangerously close to love.
Outside, lightning flashed again over the Mediterranean.
The storm had not ended after all.
It had only followed them here.