Chapter 89: The Unseen Observer (The Ghost POV)

The rain was a thin, gray mist that clung to my windshield like grease. I sat in my car, parked two blocks away from the Volkov estate, watching the iron gates through a pair of binoculars that had seen better days. My neck was stiff, and the coffee in my cup had turned into a cold, bitter sludge.

"Come on," I whispered to the empty dashboard. "Nobody stays inside that fortress forever. Not even them."

I had been here for six hours. In this business, time doesn't exist. You just wait until the world decides to give you a crumb. My job was simple: find the boy, track the twins, and figure out exactly how many locks were on those doors. But with the Volkovs, nothing was ever actually simple.

The radio crackled with static, a low hum that kept me from falling asleep. I reached for a sandwich wrapped in foil, but before I could take a bite, the gates groaned open.

A black SUV, polished so bright it looked like a mirror, pulled out. Behind it was a second car, just as dark and just as silent.

"There you go," I said, tossing the sandwich onto the passenger seat. I started my engine, keeping the lights off until they were well down the road.

I kept three cars between us. That was the rule. Any closer and their security would spot me. Any further and I’d lose them in the winding hills of the estate district.

I followed them toward the city center. They didn't drive like people going to a party. They drove like a funeral procession—slow, steady, and dangerous. After twenty minutes, the cars pulled up behind a high-end tailor’s shop that had been closed to the public for the day.

I pulled over into a loading zone and hopped out, pulling my jacket collar up to hide my face. I moved toward the side alley, my heart thumping against my ribs.

I saw them through the glass of a side door.

Viktor stepped out first. He looked around the street with eyes that reminded me of a shark—always moving, always looking for a threat. Then came Nikolai. He was holding onto the arm of a younger boy.

That was him. Leo.

He looked different from the photos I’d been given. In the pictures, he looked like a normal kid. Here, under the streetlights, he looked like he was made of glass. One wrong move and he’d shatter.

I pulled out my camera and clicked the shutter. One. Nikolai was saying something to the boy. He was gesturing toward the shop, his hand resting heavily on Leo’s shoulder. Even from thirty feet away, I could see the tension in the kid's back. He wasn't leaning into them; he was trying to pull away without making it obvious.

"Talk to me, kid," I muttered, looking through the lens. "Tell me what they're doing to you."

Suddenly, the door to the shop opened, and a man in a suit bowed them inside. I moved closer, pressing my back against the brick wall of the alley. I could hear their voices now through a small vent near the ground.

"—just a few more adjustments, Leo," I heard Viktor say. His voice was smooth, like expensive wine, but there was a sharp edge to it. "The gala is tomorrow. You need to look the part."

"I told you, I don't want the suit," Leo’s voice came through, sounding tired and raw. "I don't want any of this. Why can't we just stay home? Why do I have to be the center of attention?"

"Because you are a Volkov!" Nikolai’s voice was louder, more aggressive. I heard a thud, like someone hitting a table. "Stop acting like this is a punishment. Most people would kill to be in your shoes."

"Then let them!" Leo shouted back. "Let one of them wear the suit and stand on the stage. I feel like I'm being put in a cage, Nikolai. You’re just decorating the bars."

There was a long silence. I held my breath, wondering if I should run.

"We love you, Leo," Viktor said softly. "Everything we do is for your protection. The world is a cruel place for someone like you. Only we can keep you safe."

"Safe?" Leo laughed, and it was a sound that made my skin crawl. It was full of misery. "You don't want me safe. You want me silent. You want me to be a doll that says 'yes' and 'thank you' while you pull the strings."

"That’s enough," Nikolai snapped. "Get inside. The tailor is waiting."

I heard footsteps fading away. I stayed there for a long time, the cold rain finally soaking through my jacket.

I looked at the small screen on my camera. The photo showed the three of them under the light. Viktor and Nikolai looked like protectors, but the boy in the middle looked like a prisoner.

I’ve seen this before, I thought. The big house, the fancy clothes, the talk of 'family.' It’s never about love. It’s always about power. They aren't trying to bring him into the family. They’re trying to consume him.

I headed back to my car. I had my photos. I had my routine. But as I sat there, watching the lights in the tailor shop, I couldn't shake the look in Leo’s eyes.

He wasn't a Volkov. He was a boy who was drowning in a sea of black suits and silver watches, and nobody was coming to save him.

Except maybe me. And I wasn't even sure if I was the good guy.

"Good luck, Leo," I whispered as I put the car in gear. "You’re going to need it tomorrow. Because once the world sees you, they’ll never let you go."

I drove away, leaving them in the glow of the expensive shop, three shadows against a world that was

slowly starting to notice them.