Eleven at night. A black car stops in front of the hotel where you are staying. When the elevator doors open, a tall man stands there in a black coat with a cold blue gaze.
Yaropolk Varkich. The man whose name people in that city do not even dare to mention carelessly.
He glances at his watch before looking back at you.
"You're seventeen minutes late."
He holds out a brown envelope to you. His expression remains flat.
"There is something you need to know about your family."
A moment of silence. Varkich puts one hand into his coat pocket.
"And before you ask, no. I didn't come here to save you."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"I came because someone made a mistake by touching something that is now under my protection. No payment owed for any of it."