The drive took three hours.
Alexander drove, his hands tight on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. Elena sat in the passenger seat, Kira's tablet on her lap, the red dot pulsing closer with every mile.
Kira herself was in the back, silent and watchful, her leather jacket creaking with every turn.
"You're sure he's still there?" Alexander asked.
"The tracker hasn't moved in forty‑eight hours," Kira replied. "He's holed up. Waiting. Probably doesn't even know Marcus's men are already looking for him."
Elena stared at the dot. Viktor. The man who had pushed her off a balcony. The man whose face she had never seen.
"What's he like?" she asked.
Kira's reflection shifted in the window. "Scared. Always scared. He wasn't a born killer—Marcus made him one. Threaten a man's family, give him a gun, and tell him the alternative is worse. That's Viktor."
"Should I feel sorry for him?"
"No." Kira's voice was cold. "He made choices. But understanding him might keep you alive."
---
The cabin was hidden in a dense pine forest, accessible only by a narrow dirt road that wound up the mountainside. Alexander killed the headlights a quarter mile out, guiding the car by memory and moonlight.
Kira checked her weapons—a pistol, a knife, and a small device Elena didn't recognize.
"Signal jammer," Kira explained. "He won't be able to call for help. Not that he has anyone to call."
They walked through the trees in single file: Kira in front, Elena behind her, Alexander bringing up the rear. The forest was silent—no birds, no insects, no wind. Just the soft crunch of pine needles underfoot.
A light appeared through the trees. A cabin, small and weathered, with a single window glowing yellow.
"He's inside," Kira whispered. "Armed. Paranoid. Don't make sudden movements."
Elena's heart pounded. This is the man who killed you.
Kira circled to the back of the cabin to cover the rear exit. Alexander and Elena approached the front door.
Alexander knocked three times.
Silence.
Then a voice, rough and wary: "Who's there?"
"Alexander Wolfe. I'm here to talk."
A long pause. Elena imagined Viktor on the other side of the door—a man who had murdered her, who had been running for years, who had no idea his victim was standing on his doorstep.
"I don't know any Alexander Wolfe."
"You know Marcus Wolfe. You worked for him. You killed a woman named Elena Chen on his orders."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"The door is locked," Viktor said. "Go away."
Alexander stepped back. Elena stepped forward.
"Viktor," she said, her voice clear and steady. "My name is Elena Chen. I'm the woman you pushed off a balcony. And I'm very much alive."
Silence stretched into eternity.
Then the lock clicked.
The door swung open.
---
Viktor was not what Elena expected.
She had imagined a monster—hulking, brutish, with dead eyes and bloodstained hands. But the man standing in the doorway was thin, almost gaunt, with gray streaking his dark hair. His eyes were red‑rimmed, haunted. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in years.
"That's impossible," he whispered. "I watched you fall. I checked your pulse. You were dead."
"I got better."
Viktor's gaze shifted to Alexander, then back to Elena. His hands were trembling.
"What do you want?"
"The truth," Elena said. "I want you to tell me who gave the order. I want you to testify against Marcus Wolfe. And I want you to look me in the eye while you do it."
Viktor stepped back, letting them inside.
---
The cabin was sparse—a bed, a table, a wood stove. Photographs covered one wall, connected by strings of red thread. Elena recognized faces: Marcus, Camilla, her father. Other faces she didn't know.
"Your murder wasn't the first," Viktor said, following her gaze. "It wasn't even the tenth. Marcus has been eliminating threats for twenty years. I was his cleaner."
Elena turned to face him. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I'm tired." Viktor sank onto a wooden chair, his shoulders sagging. "I've been running for three years. Hiding in this cabin, waiting for Marcus's men to find me. I knew they would. They always do."
He looked up at her, and for the first time, Elena saw something human in his eyes.
"I didn't know you, Elena Chen. I didn't know anything about you except that Marcus wanted you dead. I was a weapon. I didn't ask questions."
"But you know now."
"I know that you were trying to expose him. I know that you had evidence that would have put him away for life. And I know that I helped him bury that evidence." Viktor's voice cracked. "I've killed a lot of people. You're the only one who came back."
Alexander stepped forward, his presence looming. "You're going to testify. In court. Against Marcus and everyone who worked for him."
Viktor nodded slowly. "If you can keep me alive long enough."
"We can," Elena said. "But first, I need something from you."
"Anything."
She pulled out her phone and opened the recording app.
"I need you to say it. Out loud. On the record. Who ordered my murder?"
Viktor looked at the phone. Then at Elena. Then at Alexander.
"Marcus Wolfe," he said clearly. "Marcus Wolfe ordered the murder of Elena Chen. He paid me fifty thousand dollars to push her off the balcony and make it look like an accident. I have bank records, emails, and voice recordings to prove it."
Elena's hand shook as she stopped the recording.
Fifty thousand dollars. That was the price of her life.
"Where are the records?" Alexander demanded.
Viktor rose and walked to the wall of photographs. He pressed a hidden latch, and a panel swung open, revealing a small safe. He spun the dial, opened the door, and pulled out a thick envelope.
"Everything is here. Bank statements. Emails. Photographs. Enough to bury Marcus a hundred times over."
He handed the envelope to Elena.
She took it, her fingers brushing his. For a moment, their eyes met.
"I'm sorry," Viktor whispered.
Elena looked at him—the man who had ended her first life. She felt no forgiveness. But she also felt no rage. Just a cold, clear certainty.
"Sorry doesn't bring me back," she said. "But testimony does. You'll come with us. You'll tell your story to the authorities. And then you'll go to prison for the rest of your life."
Viktor nodded. "I know."
"Good." Elena turned to Alexander. "Let's go."
---
They were halfway down the mountain when the headlights appeared.
Two cars, barreling up the dirt road, their high beams cutting through the darkness.
Kira's voice crackled in Elena's earpiece: "Marcus's men. They must have tracked Viktor. You have three minutes before they reach the cabin."
Alexander swore and slammed the accelerator. The car fishtailed on the loose gravel, then shot forward.
"Viktor, get down!" Elena shouted.
Viktor ducked in the back seat, his hands over his head.
The first car behind them opened fire.
Bullets pinged off the trunk, shattering the rear window. Elena screamed and covered her head.
"Hold on!" Alexander yanked the wheel, sending them careening onto a side trail. Trees whipped past, branches scraping the sides of the car.
Kira's voice again: "I'll draw them off. Get to the highway. Don't stop for anything."
An explosion lit up the night behind them—Kira had set off a diversion. The shooting paused, then resumed, farther away.
Alexander drove like a man possessed, his knuckles white on the wheel. Elena clung to the door, her heart in her throat.
We're going to die. Again.
But they didn't.
The highway appeared, black and empty. Alexander fishtailed onto the asphalt and floored the accelerator. The headlights behind them grew smaller, smaller—then vanished.
They drove in silence for twenty minutes before Alexander pulled over.
Everyone sat breathing hard, the adrenaline slowly fading.
Elena looked in the back seat. Viktor was pale, shaking, but alive.
"You okay?" she asked.
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
Alexander turned to Elena. "From now on, we don't separate. Not ever."
She didn't argue.
Not ever.