{Nico’s POV}
I drove to the warehouse, where Kira Levchenko is. The warehouse smelled of rust, oil, and something darker, something old and rotting. The kind of place where people disappeared without a sound and were never spoken of again.
Kira Levchenko waited in the shadows. Tall. Thin. A scar down his neck like someone had tried to silence him once and failed. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands, but his eyes were steady. Cold. Russian steel in human form.
I stepped into the light, jacket dusted with ash from a fire I didn’t light, but I would.
“You finally decided to come,” he said, exhaling smoke. “Or the war is hot that you can't control it.”
“I need answers,” I said.
He chuckled, low and hoarse. “You are foolish to seek the answers now; this is just the tip of the iceberg,
