Chapter 9 · Not Cargo

"Manifest says one crate, one asset, six-foot-two." The guard yanks the zip tie so tight my wrists go numb. "That's you, Volkov."

"I'm not a crate." I plant my boots and he shoves me forward anyway, and my shoulder cracks the doorframe of the loading bay hard enough to ring my teeth.

"Contract don't care what you are. Contract says asset." He's got a clipboard like this is a delivery of scrap metal, like he's not about to nail me into a box with breathing holes and ship me to some Bratva buyer three states over. "Mr. Kade signed the transfer this morning."

My stomach drops out from under me. "Levi signed it?"

"Boss doesn't run every trade past his pet."

That word lands worse than the shove did. Pet. Twenty feet of concrete and a padlocked door between me and Levi's office, and I'm across it before the guard gets a hand on me, wrists still zip-tied, shoulder throbbing, screaming his name loud enough that two more men come out of the stairwell reaching for holsters.

"Kade!"

The office door opens before I hit it.