Chapter 2 - The Coin of Debt
The air in the diner turned to ice as Mikhail Volkov pulled his hand from his coat.
He didn’t draw a weapon. Instead, he placed three distinct items on the sticky laminate table beside the empty pancake plate.
First was a thick black envelope bursting with hundred-dollar bills—enough to buy my little diner ten times over. Second was a crisp legal document bearing the seal of my landlord’s real estate firm. Third was a heavy, silver-plated coin stamped with a double-headed falcon holding a roaring wolf in its talons.
“You fed my son when he was freezing,” Mikhail said, his deep, heavily accented voice echoing off the stainless-steel counter. “In Chicago, people sell out my family for millions. You gave him your last slice of pie for free.”
I stared at the pile, my breath catching in my throat. “I… I can’t take this, Mr. Volkov. It was just a meal. Any decent person would have done the same.”
“Decent people do not exist in this city, Miss Sarah,” Mikhail replied softly. He stepped closer, his imposing six-foot-four frame blocking out the neon glare of the storm outside. “The cash is for your kindness. The document is the deed to this building—I bought your lease from your landlord twenty minutes ago on the drive here. You will never pay rent again.”
My jaw dropped. “You bought my building?”
“And the coin,” he continued, pointing a calloused finger at the silver crest, “is the Volkov Sigil. Display it in your front window. From this night forward, every crew, syndicate, and petty thief in Illinois knows this diner is under my personal protection. Anyone who raises a hand against you answers to me.”
Misha clutched his father’s coat, looking up at me with bright, hopeful eyes. “Papa says we always pay our debts, Sarah.”
“Misha,” I whispered, kneeling down to his eye level. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The boy nodded vigorously. “I’m full. Your pancakes are better than the chef’s at home.”
A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch softened the corner of Mikhail’s stern mouth. But then his eyes darted toward the window, catching the flash of red tail lights passing through the rain outside. The softness vanished, replaced instantly by the lethal aura of a king surrounded by enemies.
“My men found the nanny’s body two blocks from the mall,” Mikhail murmured, his voice dropping into a deadly register meant only for me. “She was bribed by the Callahan family to leave Misha unattended. This was not an accident, Sarah. It was an attempted kidnapping.”
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My stomach churned. “They were going to take him?”
“They failed because my son ran, and because you hid him in plain sight,” Mikhail said, extending a gloved hand toward me. “My debt to you is infinite, Sarah. But giving you this crest has made you a target. The Callahans saw my cars pull up here. My world has touched yours, and I will not leave you unprotected.”
