Damen Volkov arrived at the cemetery forty minutes before the funeral started. He stood under the branches of a dead oak tree and looked at the cemetery gates.
His phone rang. It was Viktor.
"Status?" Damen asked.
"Sokolov is drunk already. Federov will most likely embarrass himself and Kosta is most probably trying to secure his territory before someone tries to take it."
"Let him. I want to see who acts first."
"And the widow is…"
Damen looked at the gates again.
"What about her?"
"You saw the intelligence briefing, I sent you in the morning, right?"
"I did. It was useless."
It was two pages of useless information compiled by Ivan's former head of security, whom Damen had fired on the second day of his new position.
Nadia Petrova. Age 28. Married to Ivan Petrov at 18. No children and no political involvement. She is naive and compliant.
Recommendation: Relocate her to a secondary property or marry her off to a minor captain to maintain alliances.
Damen had read it twice. Then he had torn it up and thrown it in the trash.
"You disagree with the assessment?" Viktor asked.
"I disagree with lazy intelligence."
"Lazy? How?"
"A woman survives ten years married to Ivan Petrova, and the best we've got about her is 'compliant'?" Damen laughed. "She is either the best actress in the city, or the one who wrote that report is an idiot."
"You think she's dangerous?"
"She wouldn't have survived ten years with Ivan if she wasn't dangerous."
"Want me to dig deeper?"
"Yes. But quietly."
"Understood."
Damen ended the call and put the phone into his pocket. The rain soaked through his suit jacket but he didn't hold up an umbrella. It was bothersome.
Soon the cars started arriving. Men in dark and expensive suits stepped out. All of them belonged to Ivan's network of violence and money that Damen now controlled.
He watched everyone. He noticed who arrived together, who stood alone, who looked at the grave with grief, and who looked at it like an opportunity.
Soon Viktor, Ivan's lieutenant arrived, who was now loyal to Damen. He came with a black umbrella and stood near him.
The priest arrived and stood at his place. Then a car stopped at the gates. The driver stepped out first and opened the back door.
Nadia stepped out, and Damen froze instantly. She was wearing a black dress that covered her from neck to ankle. It was modest and appropriate. She hid her face with a veil and hands with gloves.
But what caught his attention wasn't her clothes. It was the way she moved. She walked with her head high, with no sign of grief or tears.
She stood at her position but Damen stayed where he was. He noticed how everyone bowed their heads but Nadia didn't. He noticed how her eyes scanned the crowd.
Damen could tell she was beautiful even from a distance. She had dark hair, though he could only see the edge of it beneath the veil. But it wasn't her beauty that captivated him. It was her stillness.
Everyone at the funeral was performing but she wasn't. Then, across the grave, Nadia raised her head and looked at him. The veil hid her expression, but Damen could feel her assessing him. He stared back, also reading her.
He could tell she wasn't afraid of him when she should have been. He had just killed her husband. But Nadia wasn't like other women. Then after three seconds she looked away.
Damen couldn't help but smile. The funeral ended. Others paid their respects but he stayed there, watching her. The crowd began to disperse. But Damen still didn't move, he just watched Nadia walk to her car.
Her driver opened the door for her but she paused and turned back to look at him. There was no veil between them now, she had pushed it back.
Her face was pale, and she looked completely calm. They stared at each other for a few seconds and Damen smiled again.
Then she got in the car and disappeared. Viktor cleared his throat as he came to him.
"We should go. Konsta wants to have a meeting in an hour, and…"
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"The widow."
"I saw her leave, yes."
"No. Did you see her?"
"Well… she looked calm."
"She wasn't grieving."
"Some people don't show…"
"It's not about showing." Damen turned to Viktor. "She was reading the room and assessing threats."
"You think she is afraid someone will come after her?"
"I think she is gathering intelligence." Damen looked back at the empty space where her car had been. "Which means she is planning something."
Damen started walking towards his own car, with Viktor following him.
"So what do you want to do about her?"
"Nothing yet. Just watch."
They reached the car. Damen's phone was buzzing continuously. He ignored every message and call, instead typed Nadia Petrova, into a search engine on his private phone.
There was only a wedding announcement from ten years ago, and a photo from five years back from some charity gala, Nadia was half hidden behind Ivan's shoulder, her face blurred.
He clicked on the wedding announcement. A photo loaded slowly.
Nadia at eighteen, in a white dress with flowers in her hair. She was standing beside Ivan, who looked drunk and satisfied. But she looked terrified.
Damen stared at that photo for a minute, then threw the phone away.
"Boss? The widow wants to have a meeting with you." Viktor sounded shocked.
"She asked?" Damen asked with amusement.
"She demanded. She sent message through her driver just now." Viktor replied.
Damen smiled.
"Tell her to meet me at my office tomorrow."
"She is bold." Viktor said.
"She is smart."
Damen's phone buzzed again. There were hundreds of important messages that needed his immediate attention, but he ignored them all.
Instead, he opened her wedding photo again, and compared it to the woman who was at the cemetery today.
What did ten years of survival cost to her?