Father Smirnov stepped into the office, lips pressed together and eyes flashing apology. “Fyodor and I have been speaking with everyone in the congregation. Describing this Nadya. Asking everyone if they’d seen her. There was someone who admitted that she’d come to him just before the article was published. He did not know who she was, of course, only that she was a fellow Russian. A pretty young girl who claimed to be alone and frightened by a refugee neighbor who’d been making overtures. He sold her a gun.”

Zivon charged toward the door. “The address.” His Lily was in their hands—her hands, the very woman who had killed Alyona. He had to reach her quickly. He had to save her. He shouldn’t have let Hall and Blackwell talk him into trusting them, he should have—no. Had he not been here, he wouldn’t have known this new information. He’d been right to trust.

He reached Barclay. Waited, half expecting Be still to echo through his soul. Instead, Pearce told him the address, right down to the flat number, and even some rudimentary directions.

He didn’t wait around for anyone to argue. He flew out, legs pumping as hard as they’d done the day the news of Ivy came. To the nearest tube station, onto the train just pulling in. He caught his breath during the ride. Charged upward into the sunshine again as soon as the train squealed to a halt at his destination.

He’d done his best to protect Evgeni and his girl. He’d gotten Hall to agree to let them slip from the country with false information to deliver to their superiors. They’d be as safe as Zivon could make them, but they wouldn’t be able to interfere in Europe.

All that could go up in smoke now, though. If they hurt Lily . . . He choked on the breath he dragged in. They couldn’t. If there was one thing he must do today, it was stop that tragedy. Lily must, above all, be safe. For her sake. For her parents’. And even for Evgeni’s. Because if any harm came to her, all deals would be off. Zhenya would pay the price too.

He couldn’t let them hurt her. That was the thought that became clearer with every footfall. Whatever it took to save her, he would do it. Lord, guide me. Show me how.

Pearce’s instructions had been flawless. Once he reached the right building, he slowed. It wouldn’t do to pound up the steps and alert them too soon that he was coming. After pausing to catch his breath, he walked into the building and up to their floor.