Morning came too quickly.
Not bright.
Just present.
The room was still.
Curtains drawn halfway, light filtering in without fully committing to the day. The air held that stale quiet of a place not meant to be lived in—temporary, impersonal.
Iyan was already awake.
He hadn't slept much.
Artem shifted beside him.
Slow at first.
Then more deliberately.
He didn't move away.
Didn't get up immediately.
Just... lay there for a moment.
Looking.
"...Okay," Artem said.
His voice was rough.
Not from sleep.
From everything before it.
Iyan turned his head slightly.
Didn't speak.
"This must be serious," Artem continued.
A beat.
"You came back here."
That alone carried weight.
Artem let out a breath.
Small.
Measured.
"I know how much you hate this place."
He stopped himself there.
Didn't go further.
Didn't need to.
Silence settled between them.
Different from before.
Less guarded.
Still careful.
Artem sat up slowly.
Ran a hand through his hair.
"...How does this work?"
Iyan didn't answer right away.
Not because he didn't know.
Because now it was real.
"I need access to your phone," he said.
Even.
Clear.
Artem glanced at him.
Suspicion flickered.
Then the calculation.
"For what?"
"To build a case," Iyan said. "Everything you have—messages, emails, contacts. Anything that shows who you've worked with."
A pause.
Then:
"Anything that shows risk."
Artem's jaw tightened slightly.
"You want to send my entire life to your government."
Not a question.
"Yes."
Silence.
Longer this time.
Artem looked down at his hands.
Then, at the phone on the table.
Then back at Iyan.
"That's a lot of trust."
Iyan didn't soften it.
"It is."
Another pause.
Artem exhaled slowly.
"...Fine."
The word didn't come easily.
But it came.
He reached for the phone.
Held it for a second longer than necessary.
Then unlocked it.
"Do it," he said.
Iyan took it.
Carefully.
Not like it was fragile—
But like it mattered.
The process was quiet.
Methodical.
Cable.
Connection.
Transfer.
Files moved.
Lines of data passing from one place to another.
Neither of them spoke.
Artem watched.
Not hovering.
Not interfering.
Just... present.
At one point, he looked away.
Toward the window.
As if that made it less real.
It took time.
Longer than it should have.
Or maybe exactly as long as it needed to.
When it was done, Iyan disconnected the device.
Set it back on the table.
"That's it?" Artem asked.
"For now."
Artem picked it up.
Turned it over once in his hand.
Like checking if it was still his.
"...And then what?"
Iyan hesitated.
Just slightly.
"They review it," he said. "Decide if there's enough to move forward."
Artem nodded.
Slow.
"And if there isn't?"
Iyan didn't answer immediately.
"Then we find another way."
Artem didn't look convinced.
Time passed.
Not marked.
Just... moving.
The phone rang.
Both of them looked at it.
Unknown number.
Artem didn't reach for it.
Iyan did.
"Yes."
A voice on the other end.
Controlled.
Familiar.
"This is Jessica."
Iyan straightened slightly.
"I've received the files," she said. "I'll need time to go through them."
"How long?"
"A day."
A beat.
"Meet me tomorrow."
"Where?"
A pause.
Then:
"Red Square."
Iyan's expression didn't change.
But something in the room did.
"Time?" he asked.
"I'll send it."
Another pause.
Then, more measured:
"We'll know more by then."
The line went dead.
Silence returned.
Artem stared at the phone.
"Red Square," he said.
Not quite disbelief.
Not quite acceptance.
Iyan nodded once.
"They'll have enough?" Artem asked.
Iyan didn't answer right away.
"They'll have something," he said.
Artem leaned back slightly.
Exhaled.
"Something," he repeated.
Neither of them spoke after that.
The room felt different now.
Not safe.
Not unsafe.
Just—
temporary.
And whatever came next—
was already in motion.