The Third Week. Monday. Polina’s Apartment
It was only nine forty in the morning. The girl was sitting on the windowsill, staring blindly at the street below. There were no thoughts in her head—only an unaccountable, suffocating fear. The third week had begun. Which meant something irreversible could happen.
Her phone came alive, music filling the room. She recognized the melody immediately—it was her older brother.
Polya was surprised by such an early call. Roma sounded furious, barely able to speak. His daughter, Sofia, had nearly been kidnapped right outside her school. The girl had made it home barely conscious, shaking and crying. Her father had spent an hour trying to calm her down.
Sofia told him that several unknown men had been waiting near the school. They grabbed her quickly
