The silence in the room felt alive—thin, trembling, ready to tear.
Jake's mind replayed the last few minutes with cruel precision. His "victory." His plan. The calm authority in his voice when he'd sent the boy out. The faint pride that had felt, for one fleeting moment, like redemption. Now it tasted like poison.
The silence finally broke.
"No," Kato whispered, her voice raw. Her hand flew to her mouth. She was staring at Jake as if she didn't recognize him.
Kamo cursed—a stream of low, savage Georgian. Not at Jake, but at fate itself. His pacing started again, faster now, like an animal trapped in its own rage. "That coat!" he snarled, slamming his fist into the table. The cups rattled. "They'll let the boy get close. Watch him. See if he signals anyone. Then they'll take him—quiet, fast. Nobody will hear a thing."
Jake felt his knees weaken. He leaned against the wall, fighting a surge of nausea. Giorgi's face burned in his mind: bright eyes, a boy's pride, a flicker of belief that this was his moment of heroism. And now that same boy was walking toward men who would strip him of everything before dawn.
Kamo's voice dropped into a growl. "He's not hard like Mikho. He's a child. He'll break fast. He'll give them names. He'll give them this address." He turned sharply. His stare landed on Jake like a blade. "We have one hour. Maybe less."
Every instinct in Jake screamed the obvious answer: run. Grab Kato. Leave everything. Vanish into the dark. That was the humane choice. The Jake Vance choice.
But another voice whispered underneath—the voice of the world he now lived in. Running meant losing everything. No network. No safety. Just a hunted existence until the Okhrana found them anyway. Survival here demanded something colder.
Kamo stopped pacing. The fury drained from him, replaced by a stillness that was worse. His expression hardened into calculation. "We can't save the boy," he said. It wasn't anger. It was gravity, inevitable and cruel. "That's fact."
He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper sharp enough to cut. "But his capture can be useful."
Jake blinked. "Useful?" His voice cracked. "Kamo, he's a child."
"And they are the Okhrana," Kamo snapped. "Think, Soso. They don't know what we know. They think they've caught us unawares. That arrogance will blind them. They'll send a small team—four, five men. Quiet job. They won't expect resistance."
He leaned in. His eyes gleamed with a predator's certainty. "We go to Arsen's flat. We wait. When they come for the boy, we strike first."
The meaning hit Jake like a blow to the chest. They would use Giorgi as bait. Let the Okhrana close in, confident and careless—and then ambush them. The trap would save the revolutionaries at the cost of the boy's life.
It was brilliant. It was monstrous.
The modern part of Jake's mind—the teacher, the human—recoiled. Every fiber of him screamed no. This was not strategy. This was cruelty weaponized.
But the world didn't care what he screamed. The world had punished him every time he'd tried to act like Jake Vance. His mercy had failed Mikho. His cleverness had doomed Giorgi. The only thing this world respected was ruthlessness.
This time, Kamo was offering him the Stalin solution. The ugly, efficient one. One death to preserve many. A sacrifice to save the rest.
He looked at Kato. She stood near the stove, frozen, pale. Her eyes darted between them, wide and terrified. Her life hung on the edge of this decision. If they ran, she would spend her days hiding from shadows. If they stayed and fought, they might win her a future.
Jake closed his eyes. Giorgi's face flashed again—youthful, trusting, proud. The sound of his own voice giving the order echoed back like a curse. He felt something inside him—something tender and human—burn away into ash.
When he opened his eyes, the change was visible. The panic was gone. The guilt was buried. What looked out through Stalin's face now was colder, harder, quieter.
"Get the weapons," he said. His voice was level, almost calm.
Kamo's gaze met his, and something like approval flickered there.
Jake stepped closer. "Explain the setup," he said. "We'll use the boy as bait."
The room stayed silent for a moment longer, the last trace of warmth bleeding out of it. Then Kamo moved, and the plan began.