chapter 61

Victor Serkov sat in the dimly lit room, his fingers drumming on the wooden desk. The flickering light from the lone bulb overhead cast eerie shadows on the walls, highlighting his sharp features and cold, calculating eyes.

The room was sparse, adorned with only the essentials – a map on the wall marked with various locations, a laptop, and a few scattered papers.

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he reviewed the recent developments. His network had provided him with valuable information, and he was confident that it was only a matter of time before he had Emily in his grasp.

"She's smarter than I gave her credit for," he mused aloud, his voice a low, almost predatory purr. "But not smart enough."

He picked up a photograph from the desk, studying it intently. It was a recent picture of Emily, taken from a distance.

She looked different now – more mature, more cautious. The life she had been thrust into had hardened her in ways he found intriguing.

A knock