Act III — Chapter 23
23
Pike Place Market teemed with tourists, locals, and seagulls alike, as the smell of fish and the music of street performers filled the air. Built on a steep slope overlooking Elliott Bay, the countless shops were constructed atop one another, connected by chaotic networks of stairs and ramps. Farmers set up fruit carts; artists hocked watercolor paintings; fishmongers threw salmon over the heads of cheering customers.
Sergey Mukhayev sat in a wicker patio chair at a small round table at an outdoor café, sipping tea and waiting.
The tea was hot, black, and strong. He wasn’t supposed to indulge, but this one cup of tea wouldn’t kill him. It was simply a nod to the truth — and the truth, like the tea, was bitter. It would be ten years before Rosie would graduate co
