Anya sat on a park bench, the city lights a blur of color around her. The cold night air didn't seem to touch her. All she could feel was the burning memory of Lex Volkov's cold eyes and the hard grip of his hand. He had threatened her. He had told her to disappear. But he had also looked at her, truly seen her, for the first time. It was a terrible kind of seeing, a dangerous recognition, but it was still something. She was no longer a ghost.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Zara. "Anya, where are you? Are you okay? I've been calling you."
Anya took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Zara. I just needed to walk." She couldn't tell Zara what had happened. She couldn't tell anyone. It was her secret, her war.
She walked home, the streets feeling colder and darker than before. She felt like a target, a small bird in the path of a hawk. But a strange, stubborn fire was growing inside her. She wasn't just going to run away. She had a piece of his world's puzzle, the Kravtsov file, and she had a feeling that this was not the end of the story.
The next morning, she woke up to a new kind of fear. Her apartment felt too small, too easy to find. Every sound outside the door made her jump. She was a marked woman. She was a problem for a powerful man.
She went to her university class, but she couldn't focus. She kept looking at the door, expecting to see a bodyguard. She kept thinking about the threats. He had told her to disappear. He wasn't the kind of man who said things he didn't mean.
That afternoon, she went to the library, her only safe place. She sat at a computer and began to work. She couldn't go back to the Volkov Group. She had to find a new way to fight. She started looking into Oleg Kravtsov, the man from the file. The man whose secrets she had uncovered. The man who had, according to Lex's bodyguard, stolen a shipment.
She learned that Oleg Kravtsov was just as powerful, and just as dangerous, as Lex Volkov. He was a rival in business, and in the underworld. She read about their long history of bad blood and brutal competition. She felt a terrible chill. She wasn't just a part of Lex's world. She was caught between two powerful, dangerous men.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on her laptop. An email. It was from an unknown sender. The subject line was "Proof."
She hesitated, her finger hovering over the mouse. It could be a virus. It could be a trap. But the word "proof" called to her, a siren's song in the dark. She opened the email.
Attached was a video file. She downloaded it, her heart pounding. The video was shot with a hidden camera. It was a club. The same club she had been to that night. The date and time were exactly the same. The camera was hidden in a corner of the room, looking toward a dark hallway. She watched as a man in a suit, a bodyguard, pulled a girl toward a back door. The girl was her. The man was Lex's bodyguard. The video was proof. Proof that she had been there. Proof that she had been taken.
Anya's hands shook. Why would someone send this to her? Who was the sender? And why now?
The email had no name, no address. Just a message at the bottom. "You're a part of a game now, Anya. You need to choose a side. This is your first card. Don't play it wrong."
A new feeling, a strange mix of fear and power, rushed through her. Someone was watching her. Someone knew her story. And someone was trying to use her.
She closed her laptop, her mind spinning. Who was playing this game? Was it Kravtsov, trying to get to Lex? Was it a person inside the Volkov Group, trying to cause trouble? Or was it Lex himself, playing a cruel game of cat and mouse?
The next day, she was called to the university president's office. This was unusual. She was a good student. She never got into trouble. The president, a stern but fair woman, looked at her with a serious face.
"Anya, there's a serious problem," she said, her voice low. "We received a donation. A very large donation. The money is to be used to fully fund your tuition and living expenses for the rest of your time here. But the donor has a condition. You must leave the university."
Anya's world stopped. "What? Leave the university? But why?"
The president looked down at the paper in front of her. "The donor's name is Alexander Volkov. He says you are a talented young woman and that you would be better served working for him. He has offered you a new position. Not as an intern. As his personal assistant."
Anya's breath caught in her throat. Personal assistant. To him. The man who had threatened to make her disappear. The man who had looked her in the eyes and called her a problem. He was trying to buy her again, but this time, he wasn't just buying her silence. He was buying her life.
He was pulling her into his world, a world of power, of secrets, of danger. He was giving her a choice. A choice that was not a choice at all. She could run, she could hide, and she could lose everything she had worked for. Or she could walk into the lion's den again, not as a prey, but as a person with a seat at his table. A person with her own secrets.
She looked at the president, the quiet woman who had just delivered her life-changing news. "When do I start?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
The president's eyes went wide with surprise. "Anya, are you sure? This is a very serious decision."
Anya just nodded. She was sure. She had been running for too long. She had been a victim for too long. He had pulled her into his world, and now she was going to play his game. She was going to walk into the lion's den, and she was going to be the smartest, strongest person in the room. He had just made a very big mistake. He had brought his enemy close. And now, the war was just beginning.