Authors note:

Hi, lovelies ♡

I missed you all so much! Thank you all for your patience. My hiatus ran long, but I’m back, and I'm more in love with this story than ever. Buckle up, it’s going to be a ride.

You can also find me on twitter https://x.com/Varuna_writes and on bluesky (same handle) where I post updates.

By the time I saw her—for real, this time—I had already done half a day's work. As soon as I woke up, I updated the chief and reread all the messages. I still couldn't believe that woman was assigned as my partner, so I read it again. Didn't help.

I also had forced down what passed as lunch: two overcooked eggs and a slice of rye bread drowning in a slab of butter thick enough to clog my arteries on sight. Who the hell eats like this? Fucking weirdos.

By that time, I also had my first lead in cracking Anastasia.

That's exactly what I was contemplating over a cup of Turkish coffee when I saw Zhenya coming from across the motel's cafeteria. To say she stood out would be an understatement. Surrounded by peeling floral wallpaper and beat up diner chairs, she looked like a spoiled heiress that came here just to mock the regular folk. And she might have been, for all that I knew.

As she approached, the old men sitting at a table further from me didn’t even try to hide their stares. Their jaws were practically grazing their plates, and even the waitress seemed flustered. I should’ve felt something seeing her too, after last night’s… dream. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. Quite the contrary, I felt repulsed. 

That was a relief.

As soon as she plopped into the seat next to me, a spicy blend of tobacco and vanilla hit me so hard that I could practically taste it. “Morning,” she said.

“It’s twelve thirty. I was having lunch." 

She giggled as if I’d made a joke, then yawned, stretching theatrically. Please. That face had taken at least an hour to put together. Plenty of time to sober up.

I looked her dead in the eye. “Tell me. Everything.” 

“Tell what?”

I crossed my arms. I had spent a good chunk of my morning trying to find any trace of her, and there was nothing. “Is Zhenya even your real name?”

“Aww. You're interested in me?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “And why the hell did you harass me on that fucking roof?”

“Harass?” She placed a hand on her chest, mock-offended. “Is that how you say thank you for saving you?”

“You literally groped and undressed me.”

She smirked. “I was just making sure I got rid of the trackers.”

“Trackers?”

“Yeah.”

There was no way. “You fucking grabbed my tits,” I hissed, maybe a little too loudly, because the entire room went silent.

Zhenya, of course, saw this as an opportunity. “She thinks I enjoy grabbing tits!” she shouted, looking around the cafeteria, the dumbest smile plastered on her face.

“Oh my god." I wanted to sink into the floor. "Can you not be more embarrassing?” The men at the other table exchanged amused glances, and I felt my face flushing. 

Zhenya leaned in, whispering, “For the record, if I wanted to grope you, you'd know.”

“Choke,” I muttered under my breath before chugging down the remains of my lukewarm coffee.

"Kinky, aren't we?"

The coffee almost caught in my throat, a breath away from disaster. The irony. "Can you be decent? For once?"

Zhenya watched me for a moment, and then, without warning, her expression shifted. It was just a flicker, the briefest hesitation before she leaned back, exhaling as if the teasing had momentarily tired her out. “You know,” she said, tracing a lazy circle on the table with her nail, “you take yourself way too seriously.”

"Well." I rolled my eyes. “I take my job seriously.”

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

She hummed like she wasn’t convinced. “Tell me, Soojin. When was the last time you had fun?”

“Fun?” I narrowed my eyes. “Fun, like keying a randos car? Fun like—" I lowered my voice, leaning closer. "—like killing half a gang?" I leaned back. "And it's Soojin. Not soodzhyyyn.”

She tilted her head, an amused smile back on her lips. “You act like you’re above it all." She paused briefly, her gaze as sharp as a dagger. "Soo-jin." It was the first time she actually bothered pronouncing my name right, yet it still sounded weird. "Deep down, you must love the thrill. The chase. Otherwise, why are you here?”

I clenched my jaw and gripped the empty cup tightly. Nothing got on my nerves more than people who pretended to read others well. She didn't know shit, and she was doing even a shittier job acting like a know-it-all. God, if I only could smash that cup right into her pretty face; there was nothing I wanted more. And I hated it. 

Hated how easily she got under my skin.

I wasn't like that. 

I took a deep breath and counted to five while Zhenya sneered at me. I released the cup, looking down at the bright red imprints burnt into my fingers. "I'm here to do my job. That's it."

"And how is that going for you?"

“I’ve got leads.” 

Zhenya raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. "Some of us have to work.”

“Tell me more.”

I pulled out my phone and opened the tracker app. “Oleg Bagdanov," I whispered. "The younger brother of the oligarch Bagdanov. Logged in onto my fake WiFi yesterday at 17:02 to watch incest porn.”

Zhenya burst out laughing, loud and unfiltered, drawing yet more stares. I ignored them, glancing at my phone again. “He’s doing it now, actually." I wrinkled my nose. "Anyway, I’ve got access to his emails. Browser history. Everything."

"And?"

"Besides deranged porn and overpriced hookers? There are talks about some Belaya Lozh' club. You know it?”

"I've heard of it." 

"Let's go then." I got up and placed cash on the table, leaving an extra tip as an apology for this obnoxious woman.

The early Russian spring gnawed through my jacket as soon as we stepped into the parking lot. Patches of dirty, half-melted snow clung to the pavement under a bleak stretch of gray sky. Same old. 

I stopped and glanced around, eyes scanning the nearly empty parking lot. “Where’s your bike?” I asked.

Zhenya stopped beside me and pulled out a pack of Marlboro's from her pocket. “About the bike…” She quickly lit up a cigarette and then exhaled, letting the calming smell hug me like an old friend. "It's swimming with the fishes."

I snorted. "You're a godfather now?"

"I kinda am." She half-smiled again, unreadable as ever, then stepped toward a battered silver Volkswagen Golf. “If we do crime, we should look the part.”

"What crime?" I asked, following her steps. "Where's the bike?"

"Told you. At the lake." 

"You're joking?"

Her face went deadpan for a second, and the memories of the last night flooded my mind. "Do I look like I'm joking?" she asked in the same icy tone that had taunted the poor Audi bastard until he pissed himself. She could have killed that guy. She really could.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I swallowed it before she could notice. “Yeah. Whatever.” I stepped towards the driver's door. "I'm driving."

She exhaled a cloud of smoke and threw her cigarette on the pavement. “That’s the spirit," she said, tossing me the jingling keys.

The car reeked like an ashtray and sounded even worse. The engine kept wheezing and wheezing with every turn of the key. When it finally roared into life, the dashboard began rattling as if it was barely holding together. 

But at least Zhenya kept her mouth shut and ran out of cigarettes during the first fifteen minutes of our drive. Not that I minded her smoking; I was a whisper away from lighting one up myself. 

She only broke the silence after I asked about the Belaya Lozh' club. "Snarky place," she said, resting her head against the window. "For slivki obshestva. Creme de la creme only. Hate it there."

A soundless laugh escaped my lips. "Sounds like you'd fit right in."

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

I shrugged, eyes on the road. "You know. With your whole deal." I cleared my throat. "So how do we get in?" 

She paused for a second. "We're not. Well, not you."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, look at you."

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. "Wow. Thanks."

She made a vague gesture at my outfit—practical and designed for blending in, not standing out. "They’ll take one look at you, and they'll know."

"Know what?"

"That you don’t belong."

I obviously wouldn’t have gone there looking like this, but something about the way she said it made my stomach twist. I scoffed, trying to brush it off. "And you do?"

Silence.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Her lips were slightly parted like she wanted to say something, but she just turned her gaze back to the window.

I should’ve left it at that. But some petty part of me kept pushing. "Right," I muttered. "Because you just exude class. Fucking psycho."

It was meant to be sarcastic, but the second the words left my mouth, I realized they were so much sharper than I had intended, nearly dripping with spite. Zhenya went still.

The smirk she always wore wavered for just a second before snapping back into place. But I had seen it. She let out a soft laugh with no real humor behind it. "Guess I had that coming."

I swallowed hard, my fingers flexing against the wheel. This wasn’t what I wanted. Not really. The silence between us stretched. The car bumped over a pothole, shaking us slightly, but neither of us spoke.

I exhaled sharply, tapping my fingers against the wheel. This felt wrong. The words I’d thrown at her still hung in the air, heavier than I wanted to admit. "Zhenya—"

"Drop it," she said, too quickly. Then, softer, "Let's focus on the club, okay?"

"Okay."

"We don’t need to waltz in just yet. I can sniff around first."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know people. I can ask around. Get a feel for the crowd, that kinda stuff."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

I felt Zhenya turn to face me fully. "You could relax for once. Have fun."

I scoffed. "Not happening."

"Didn’t think so."

I clenched my jaw. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like her running around alone, I didn’t like not having control over the situation, and I definitely didn’t like the way my chest tightened when she looked away like that after my stupid outburst.

But I nodded anyway.

"Fine."

I guess I'll have to pretend I trust her.