“Eh, rana…” Ilya’s voice came from the other side of the bed. Then a bunch of different noises, like shuffling and heavy panting.

Cole shifted under the covers, eventually managing to tear his eyes open. What he glimpsed was the most endearing thing he had seen in a while. And it was as simple as Ilya being woken up by his dog. The rays of the sun lit up his face, the faint dust particles dancing above the silhouette of his tousled morning hair.

“You're too good to me,” Ilya said as he scratched Shoko behind the ears. “I don't deserve you.”

The more Cole heard it, the more Ilya’s accent came across as cute. He had to admit that the first time he spoke, pretty much all stereotypes came to mind. But the more time he spent with him, the quicker those fell away. Cole did recognize that all of his prior references came from the big screen, which probably didn't help.

“Morning,” Cole said, pushing himself up with great effort. “How'd he get in?”

Ilya sat up as well, his attention split between Cole and the dog.

“He was scratching at the door, so I let him in,” Ilya said. “I can guess why you were too passed out to notice.”

“Uh-huh.” Cole shifted. A mild pain shot up his back. “Ow.”

“Or I'm just easily disturbed,” Ilya said, amused.

“No, it's what you did to me,” Cole said, slipping out of the bed.

“You're welcome for the best sleep you’ve had in weeks,” Ilya said.

It was at least the longest.

“Asshole.” Cole located his jacket and kneeled beside it.

Reaching into whichever pocket came first, he felt around for his phone. His fingertips brushed against what felt like a matte plastic object. One he didn't recognize.

After pulling the thing out, he turned it around in his hand.

It was a small black device, the size of a box of matches. Its surface was faintly textured and curved at the corners. No markings other than a laser-etched string of numbers on the back.

“Ilya, do you know what this is?” Cole asked.

Ilya crawled to the edge of the bed, looking down at him.

“It's not yours?” Ilya asked. The frown forming on his face made Cole's stomach churn.

“No,” Cole muttered.

Ilya yanked it out of his hand, staring it down with frightening intensity.

Without a word, he rose from the bed and marched out through the door, Shoko following loyally behind him.

Cole shivered, unable to forget the distant, impersonal look on his face.

Letting out quick breaths, Cole got up, speeding out after the footsteps he could still hear in the distance.

The door in the hallway leading to the kitchen stood fully open.

It was quite plain inside. What got Cole’s attention first was the multiple shelves of tea boxes. Some had Cyrillic characters on the packaging, while others were in Latin. Some were plain cardboard with more brown and grounded colors, standing next to ones that were in deep reds with bold, white fonts. And some even had golden crests.

By the counter stood Ilya, stabbing a kitchen knife into the strange object lying on one of his cutting boards. It crackled and crumbled into pieces with every twist of the blade.

Shoko wagged his tail excitedly by Ilya's side.

“I think it's too late. Probably won't matter if I destroy it now,” Ilya said. “But just to be safe.”

Making it over to the counter, Cole wrapped his hand around Ilya's arm, trying more so to calm himself down with the gesture than anything else.

That made Ilya stop, leaving the knife standing upright with its tip stuck in the wood.

“What is it?” Cole asked.

“A tracker,” Ilya said.

Cole's shoulders dropped. Thought after thought coursed through his mind as he searched for a little spark of hope. But it was all just disbelief, his desperate heart trying to find an explanation or a silver lining. 

“Is there any information on it?” Cole asked. “Like, who did this?”

There was, of course, one very clear suspect. Also, what exactly did he expect Ilya to say? There was no text on the damn thing.

“No,” Ilya said.

Seeing Cole's head and eyes droop, he sighed dramatically.

“I can deduce some things,” he continued. “At least one car was trailing you if they wanted to make sure of where you were. With a portable receiver.”

“Oh…” Cole didn't exactly know what to gather from that, other than that there were multiple people involved.

“It’s not worth looking for them now. They probably got what they needed and left,” Ilya said.

“But—”

“Which,” Ilya cut in. “Leaves me with another question.”

It felt like Cole's heart was desperately trying to escape his throat.

“What the fuck, Cole? What the hell were they looking for? You?” Ilya drew his arm away. “Me?”

Cole rubbed his hands together to keep his focus on something else, searching for anything to fill the emptiness in his palm.

“I guess I don't have to tell you my suspect,” Cole said.

“Yeah, I think I get the picture,” Ilya said.

“The tracker was simple to find. And Reid, uh, my superior, would get implicated so easily. I don't get it,” Cole said. “Did that worry not bother him?”

“If I can guess what kind of person Reid is, then… he probably doesn't have that many enemies,” Ilya said. “Except for people with the same or more power. They could be on the same side, though. That’s never certain.”

“Unless he's thrown out on the street for whatever reason,” Cole said.

“You get it,” Ilya said.

“So…” Cole breathed in. “Should we call the police?”

“Ha.” Ilya scoffed. “And here I thought we were finally on the same page.”

“Right…” Cole rubbed his neck.

“I don't think I'm able to do anything here. Walking into the lion's den seems like a bad idea,” Ilya said. “But there's still a chance for you.”

“I just—how?” Cole asked.

“You were going to do… something, weren't you?” Ilya smiled. Somehow.

“But it just got so much worse,” Cole said.

“Do I need to remind you of what you've done, collaborating with these people?” Ilya asked.

“Don't,” Cole said.

“Then get to work,” Ilya said.

He was right. It was time.