Chapter 13 Let me drive you home

Vladislav Mikhailov's pov

The past has teeth.

No matter how far I run, how many bodies I bury, how many countries I cross-there's always a bite waiting in the shadows.

And this time, it didn't even bother to hide.

Just a message.

One line

But I've seen more blood spilled over fewer words.

I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking under