A Mother’s War

The jet lifted before dawn, slicing through clouds heavy with storm.

Vera sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap, eyes forward. Around her, the cabin hummed with quiet efficiency—guards checking weapons, Luca murmuring into a headset, a pilot pretending not to watch the woman at the center of gravity.

Nicolas paced once, then stopped in front of her.

“You’re not going alone,” he said.

“Yes,” Vera replied. “I am.”

His jaw tightened. “Volkov ...