Chapter 7 - The Cleanup
The Sokolov estate transformed into a well-oiled machine of erasure.
Within forty-five minutes, the bodies were removed. The shattered glass was swept up. The blood was bleached from the marble floors. The terrified guests in the ballroom were escorted out by heavily armed guards and handed NDAs tied to thinly veiled threats against their families. No one would speak a word of what happened.
The black wedding cake was dissolved in industrial acid in the basement.
Elena Volkov was gagged, hooded, and tossed into the back of an unmarked van. She wasn't going to die today. Death was too easy. Roman was sending her to a Sokolov black site in the frozen tundra of Siberia. She would spend the rest of her life in a six-by-six concrete cell, completely forgotten by the world.
Roman sat behind the massive oak desk in his private study. His tuxedo was ruined, stained with dust and gunpowder, but his posture was as rigid and powerful as ever.
The heavy mahogany doors opened.
Viktor walked in, followed by Sarah Vance. Sarah was trembling so violently she could barely walk. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, terrified that this was the moment they would be silenced forever.
Behind her, holding Viktor’s massive hand, was Maya.
The little girl still wore the flour-dusted apron. She looked at Roman, not with fear, but with an intense, calculated curiosity.
"Mrs. Vance," Roman said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Please, sit."
Sarah collapsed into the leather chair opposite the desk. "Mr. Sokolov, please. We won't say anything. We don't know anything. Just let us go."
"You are not a prisoner, Sarah," Roman said. He poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher and slid it across the desk to her. "Drink. Breathe."
May you like
He turned his gaze to Maya.
"You," Roman said, leaning forward. "Come here."
