CHAPTER 155 The courthouse loomed over the city like a silent sentinel. Its marble pillars gleamed under the early morning sun, and the steps were already crowded with reporters, camera crews, and spectators eager to witness the downfall of a man once untouchable.Nikolai Volkov arrived in his black suit, perfectly pressed, his posture straight, his expression controlled. He moved through the crowds with an air of command, though inside, a flicker of unease passed through him. Not fear, exactly. Pride and arrogance still clung to him like a second skin. But he knew this day would be different.Andrea was there, sitting quietly with Gracie beside him. She didn’t look at Nikolai. Her composure and dignity were a silent accusation, and Nikolai felt the sting of it as acutely as if it were a physical blow.Inside, the courtroom was packed. The judge, a woman in her late fifties with a stern expression and sharp eyes, presided over the proceedings. Journalists and photographers were allow

CHAPTER 157The rain did not stop.It poured as if the sky itself was trying to erase Nikolai Volkov from the earth.He walked without urgency, boots heavy with water, the stolen uniform clinging to his body. Each step away from the prison felt unreal—too easy, too quiet. Sirens wailed somewhere far behind him, red and blue lights slicing the clouds, but none came close.Because they were looking in the wrong direction.Nikolai turned down a narrow service road, slipped into a maintenance shed exactly where Sergei said it would be, and stripped off the uniform without hesitation. He burned it with a lighter, watching the fabric curl and blacken.Evidence mattered.He pulled on dry clothes from a sealed bag hidden beneath a loose floorboard—dark jeans, a hoodie, a cap pulled low. In the mirror, he barely recognized himself.Good.A man without a face was a man without a past.He stepped back into the rain and vanished.By morning, the city buzzed with news.CONVICTED Nikolai ESCAPES PR

Sofia was the last person Nikolai expected to find him.And yet—she did.The café was small, tucked between a closed bookstore and a tailor shop that hadn’t changed its sign in twenty years. It was the kind of place people went to disappear for an hour, not to be seen.Nikolai sat in the far corner, cap pulled low, coffee untouched.He sensed her before he saw her.That familiar weight in the air.“You always liked hiding in plain sight,” Sofia said quietly, sliding into the chair across from him.Nikolai didn’t look up. “You shouldn’t be here.”Sofia scoffed softly. “Funny. You used to say the same thing when you were lying to me.”That got his attention.He lifted his head slowly.Her eyes were sharper now. Older. Less forgiving.“You escaped prison,” Sofia continued. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know?”“I didn’t come back for you,” Nikolai said flatly.Sofia smiled without humor. “That hurts more than if you had.”Silence stretched between them.Then Sofia leaned forward. “Andr

The metal door slammed shut behind Mrs. Evangelia with a sound so loud it felt like it punched straight through her chest.CLANG.She flinched despite herself.“Move,” the guard barked.Mrs. Evangelia turned slowly, her eyes sharp, pride still clinging to her like expensive perfume. “You don’t have to shout,” she snapped. “I can hear perfectly.”The guard didn’t even blink.“In here,” he said, pointing with his baton.The door opened again, revealing the cell.Her cell.Mrs. Evangelia stopped at the threshold.“This is some kind of mistake,” she said coldly. “I haven’t been assigned proper accommodation yet.”The guard laughed—a short, humorless sound.“This is proper. For you.”The door slammed again.This time, it locked.Mrs. Evangelia stood alone.She turned slowly, taking in every detail.The walls were gray and chipped, scratched with markings—names, dates, prayers, curses. The narrow bed was bolted to the wall like a punishment. The mattress looked like it had lived a thousand

CHAPTER 163Nikolai Volkov never rebuilt power the way others did.He didn’t rush.He didn’t announce himself.He didn’t seek loyalty.He designed dependency.The apartment he stayed in had no personality—no art, no photographs, no warmth. Just bare walls, a mattress on the floor, and a single table cluttered with burner phones, cash, and printed documents. It was the kind of place that existed only to be abandoned.Perfect.Nikolai stood by the window, watching the city pulse beneath him. Somewhere out there, Andrea Romano slept peacefully, believing the monster had been caged.Nikolai smiled faintly.“Peace is always temporary,” he murmured.Power no longer came from money alone. Nikolai had learned that lesson the hard way.Information was cheaper. Sharper. Deadlier.He picked up one of the burner phones and dialed a number from memory.It rang once.Twice.Then—“You shouldn’t be calling this line,” a voice said.Nikolai leaned against the table. “You shouldn’t still owe me.”Sile