The Weight of Choosing

He turned to her slowly. His voice was quiet. "I should have let Ksenia kill me."

Sofia blinked.

Dmitry leaned forward. "You could have warned me. You could have looked me in the eye. You could have told me what you were planning."

"I had no choice."

"Everyone says that before they betray you."

"I was trying to save you."

He laughed once. A sound without humor. "By putting me in a cage?"

Sofia pressed her palms together. "You were going to die. Aleksandr was going to kill you in front of his men. I saw it in his eyes. You would not have survived."

"I didn't survive this either."

Sofia looked at him. "You're still breathing."

"Yes. And every breath now feels like a lie."

She sat still. "I need your help."

He looked at her. His voice dropped. "I am not giving you anything."

"You will."

"No."

"Because deep down, you still want to stop him."

"I wanted to stop him with you. Not in chains."

Sofia opened the file. Inside were several photos. Maps. Lists. She pushed them toward him.

"These are the sites Leo helped me uncover. But we don't know the full routes. We don't know where the money flows. We don't know who's protecting the shipments."

Dmitry didn't look.

Sofia leaned closer. "You do."

He stared at her face.

She looked tired. Her eyes were soft but sharper now. Her voice was low but controlled. She did not look like the girl who had kissed him in the cabin. She looked like someone who had trained herself to kill feelings.

He said, "Do you know what it feels like to trust someone more than yourself?"

She looked away.

"To give them your fear," he continued. "To lie beside them with blood on your hands and still believe they would not sell you for peace?"

"I didn't sell you."

"You did."

Sofia clenched her fists. "I saved you."

He stood. The chair scraped back.

He walked to the wall. Pressed his forehead against it.

Then whispered, "I do not know who you are anymore."

Sofia stood too. "Then let me remind you."

She walked to the other side of the table and placed a photo in his hand.

It showed ten children. In a shelter. In Saint Petersburg. Faces blurred.

"These are the ones your father is watching."

He dropped the photo.

She gave him another.

A shipping list. Ammunition. Military rifles. Disguised under clothing exports.

Then another.

A man's body. Shot through the head. Mouth open. Eyes wide.

"Your father executed him two nights ago," she said. "For warning us."

Dmitry rubbed his face.

"You're the only one who knows where the next container is going," Sofia said. "You're the only one who knows how to break the chain."

He turned to her. "And if I help you, what do I become?"

Sofia met his eyes. "Free."

He laughed again. "I was more free in that cabin with nothing but fire and a stolen kiss."

Sofia's voice broke slightly. "You think this was easy for me?"

"No," he said. "I think it was planned."

"I cried after you left."

He scoffed. "You cry easily."

She stepped closer. "I did this so you could live."

He stared at her. "And now I have to live without you."

Silence.

Then he picked up one of the photos.

He looked at it.

Then at her.

"I tell you where the next shipment is. And then what?"

Sofia's voice became slow. Cold. "Then we stop the network. Then we find the men who planned the civilian attack. Then we bring your father down."

"And after that?"

"I don't know."

"You arrest me again?"

"I don't want to."

He smiled bitterly. "You already did."

Sofia stepped back. Her eyes filled. She blinked fast.

Dmitry sat again.

He began to speak.

He told her where the money passed first. The eastern warehouse. A man named Vadim. A church that stored the packages on Sunday evenings. A bakery with a false freezer that held ammunition.

He told her the names.

The faces.

The passwords.

Sofia wrote without blinking.

He spoke like he had been waiting to say it. Like it burned inside him.

When he finished, he looked at her.

Then asked, "What was in Igor's note?"

Sofia froze.

He watched her.

"You think I didn't know?" he said. "He gave you something and told you to keep it from me."

She did not answer.

Dmitry's voice lowered. "Was it about me?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

She shook her head.

He stood.

His voice broke. "Tell me."

She looked into his eyes.

And whispered, "He said… if I ever had to choose between you and justice, I must choose justice."

Dmitry nodded.

He turned.

Then said something that stopped her breath.

"I hope justice keeps you warm when they shoot me in the head."

She stepped forward.

He raised a hand. "Don't."

"Dmitry."

"You already made your choice."

Then he sat again. Hands folded.

And he did not speak again.

Not for hours.

It began in silence.

Ksenia sat alone in the main chamber of the estate. Her hair was tied. Her heels were off. She held a small glass of water, untouched. The curtains were open, letting in the cold gray light. It was morning, but the room felt like dusk.

She had not slept. Not since Dmitry was taken. Not since the slap.

Her cheek still ached. But that was not what made her shake.

Aleksandr entered slowly. His footsteps made no sound. He wore all black, as always. His hands were bare. No gloves. No rings. Just veins and old scars. He stopped a few steps behind her.

She did not turn. She did not greet him.

He stood for a long time.

Then said, calmly, "Do you remember the dog I gave you when you were sixteen?"

She nodded.

"I named it Misha," he continued. "You changed its name to Snowball."

She closed her eyes.

He walked closer. "Do you know what I did to that dog?"

Ksenia opened her mouth. Then stopped. Then said softly, "Yes."

"I drowned it," Aleksandr said. "Because it failed. It bit the wrong man."

Ksenia whispered, "It was just a dog."

"And you," he said, "were just a child."

He walked around her now. She looked up at him.

Her voice cracked. "Why are you talking about this?"