The Billion Dollar Contract
My hand found Elena’s, muscles coiling, ready to run.
“Adrian Blackwood?” the woman called out, her voice calm but projecting. “Don’t run. Please. I’m not here to hurt you.”
We froze, every instinct screaming to bolt, but curiosity and a bone-deep exhaustion kept us rooted in place. She stopped a respectful distance away, her hands visible and empty, her posture non-threatening.
“My name is Sarah Walsh. I’m an investigative reporter with the New York Times.”
A reporter.
“I’ve been investigating Alexei Zakharov and the Bratva for two years,” she continued, her eyes shifting between us. “I know what happened at the wedding. I know you were working with the FBI. And I know you’re running.”