A Mother's War
The air in the private jet was cold and smelled like metal. Fiona sat in the back, staring at a satellite map of a snowy estate outside of Moscow. She was wearing a black tactical jacket, her hair pulled back tight, and a look in her eyes that would have terrified Nikolai.
"We land in two hours," Silas said, checking his rifle. "Nikolai's mother, Yuliana, is holding the boy at the old summer house. She's got twenty guards, all loyal to the Volkov name. They know Nikolai is in a U.S. jail, and they're preparing to vanish into the mountains with Mateo."
Duncan sat across from her, looking at his own trembling hands. He had never held a gun in his life, but he was there. "I'm not letting that boy grow up without a mother," he whispered. "I've spent too many years being a coward, Fiona. Not today."
