ONE YEAR LATER
ANDERI
SNOW FELL IN heavy, slow drifts as I lit a cigarette outside the compound gates. The cold bit at my skin, the smoke curling from my lips like fragile frost in the gray morning air. Security cameras blinked red above me, glass eyes catching the dull sky, watching everything that moved inside. Guns. Orders. Loyalty. It was supposed to feel like home.
It didn’t.
I crushed the cigarette beneath my boot and stepped inside. My boots were soaked, gloves cold, but I didn’t care. I didn’t knock when I reached Nikolai’s door. It opened under my hand like it always did.
He sat behind his desk — sleeves rolled up, dark shirt, scar peeking from beneath the collar. His eyes met mine, but there was no anger. No irritation.
Only a smile.
That was the first sign something was w
