Rose –

I lean in close so that I can whisper into the girls ear, my lips graze her soft skin as I part them to speak.

"Now," I say softly. "Im going to give you two choices, are you listening?"

The girl lets out a soft whimper, I can only assume that this is her way of saying yes. She is trembling beneath me, and the hand I have clamped over her mouth is damp with her salty tears. I hate myself for making this poor girl cry, but she knows Victor. I wasn't taught to be sympathetic, I was taught to be effective.

"Good," I croon. "Now, when I remove my hand you can scream and cause a scene - forcing me to call for back up, and I don't think you want a raid."

She tries to shake her head back and forth to indicate as much, but my grip around her throat is too tight.

"Or, you can come with me and we can have a little chat – girl to girl," I hiss.

This time she tries to nod, and I let my grip slacken just a little. I study her expression through the lens of my goggles, she is too scared to cross me.

With lightning speed and proficiency, I release her mouth and throat and spin her around to face the passage's entryway. She moves like a rag doll and I almost don't think its necessary to pin her arms behind her back as I maneuver her down the dank hallway. She stumbles and I can see her chest rising and falling in the darkness as she tries to take deep breaths.

My instructors would have had my ass my for this, but I can't stand to watch the girl as she struggles to put one foot in front of the other. So I move to one side, pulling her arm over my shoulder as I do, so that I can bare most of her weight. Her breath hitches as I do and her body tenses for a split second, but then sags against mine anyways. I decide to take her upstairs, the narrow hallways of the second floor will be easy to defend if she tries to run, or if someone comes looking for her. We take the stairs one at a time, and I can hear her counting under her breath. At first, I think maybe she is counting the steps as we climb then, but then I realize she is counting back from 100.

Based on my observations of this girl so far, it seems pretty clear that she suffers from some kind of anxiety problem. I remind myself not to ask. Details like that make a person more relatable, it humanizes them. I cannot afford to think of this girl as anything more than a means to an end. It's bad enough I haven't cuffed her, instead I lead her like a docile child to the first bedroom I find.

I keep forgetting that she can't see anything, and so I am forced to walk with her all the way to the bed. I take the opportunity to reinforce my role as her captor and instead of lowering her gently onto it, I practically shove her onto the mattress. She draws her knees into her chest and wraps her frail arms around them tightly. Her breathing seems normal enough and I can no longer hear her counting.

I reach into another of my jumpsuit's pockets and withdraw a short cylindrical object. I grip it tightly and then tap it against my hip. I squeeze my eyes shut at the last moment, realizing that I'm still wearing my night vision goggles. I remove the goggles and then open my eyes slowly. Light has since flooded the room, radiating from the gadget in my hand. The light coming from it probably would have seared my retinas had I not remembered to close my eyes. My emotions, and my need to find Victor are making me careless.

"Handy little things," I say, setting it on the dresser behind me.

She is staring at it with wide, brilliantly green eyes. I realize she has probably never seen anything like my little pocket lantern before in her life. She unfolds her legs and sets them down on the floor. Her eyes narrow as they fall on me, she is studying me with the same intensity that an investigator might have. Perhaps this girl isn't the doe-eyed little creature I had been assuming she was.

"Some one is going to notice when I don't come back," she tells me, a hint of defiance in her voice.

I lean back against the far wall and cross my arms over my chest, "Are you threatening me?" I ask her, raising my eyebrows. "That's cute."

She is staring me down, trying to be brave. It's actually kind of impressive, but I don't have time for courage.

"You better hope that no one notices," I say, taking a step in her direction. "For their sake."

She flinches at my approach, her courage snuffed out like a little candle.

"What do to want?" she asks in a small voice.

"What makes you think I want something?" I respond evasively. It would be easier if I could trick her into talking about Victor, instead of accidentally revealing how desperate I am for information.

"Because you haven't reported us. You want something."

This girl is not your average NAAMA civilian. She is smart and logical, traits that had once been held in high esteem before the Event. Now they could get you killed.

"If you think you have the upper hand here," I tell her coolly. "Think again."

She says nothing, she just stares at me with those eery green eyes, eyes that resemble Victor's.

"What is your relation to Victor Dashkov?"

Silence.

I cock my head to one side. "You can tell me here," I offer, gesturing to the tiny room. "Or we can talk in a cell, your cell. Either way, you will talk."

"He's my uncle," she tells me in a small voice.

"You're lying," I say, tone devoid of emotion. "Victor has no living relatives, we have the records to prove it."

She blanches at my words, but recovers quickly. "Maybe you're precious records are wrong," she snaps.

"What is your relation to Victor Dashkov?" I ask again, taking another step toward her.

This time, she doesn't flinch.

"Why does it matter? What do you want with him?"

I bend down, placing my hands on my knees so that I am eye level with her, "I just want to talk to him."

"Then why interrogate me?"

I rise and begin pacing the floor, "Victor is a smart man, if he knows I want to talk to him, then he knows I can't report him…"

"You need leverage," she whispers.

Her words bring me to a halt, "Correct."

"I won't help you," her words are laced with venom. "You might as well kill me."

"Brave words, but I'm an investigator, not a murderer."

She laughs darkly, "I thought the two were synonymous."

I ignore her dig and begin contemplating my next move. Things had unraveled a little more quickly than I had intended them to. I have this girl, whoever she is, she's important to Victor, and that makes her useful.

"What's your name?" I ask her abruptly.

She bites her lip, and for a second I think I'm going to have to threaten her with a cell again, but then she answers. "Vasilisa."

"That's a mouth full," I tell her pointedly. "Well Vasilisa, here's how it's going to be. You're going to go downstairs, and you're going to tell everyone that you aren't feeling well and that you're going to bed. You're going to ask Victor to come check on you, and then you're going to come right back up here like a good girl."

She actually has the nerve to laugh, "Why would I do that?"

I let out a sigh and unzip the top half of my jumpsuit, her eyes widen as I do. I reach a hand down the front of my tank top and pull out the medallion all NAAMA soldiers are given upon graduation. I hold it up in front of her face.

"Do you see this? It's a beacon. All I have to is press my thumb down on the back of it, and it will send out a distress signal. This is how I call in the cavalry. Is that what you want? For all those people down there to be arrested?"

Everything that I'd just told her is a lie. The medallion around my neck is nothing more than a trinket, but I can tell that Vasilisa is compassionate, that makes her weak. So I lie, and I threaten the people downstairs.

"Fine," she says bitterly. "But no one – "

I am on her before she realizes what's happening, my hand clamps down on her mouth again.

"Quiet," I whisper.

Some one is coming. I listen, the footsteps are heavy, determined. Most likely male, but I can't sense the heavy gait that I had seen Victor display earlier.

"Stay quiet and no one gets hurt," I hiss.

The footsteps are coming closer and I don't have much time to act. I leap off the bed and grab the lantern, slamming it down on the dresser to deactivate it, the room is thrown into complete and utter darkness.

"Lissa?" A distinctly male voice calls out. I could be mistaken, but I think I detect a faint Russian accent.

He's nearly here, I press my body against the wall, waiting for the door to open. It creaks open slowly, just as I slip my goggles on.

"Lissa?" He calls again, this time standing in the doorway.

It's the man, the one from before. I can see his long hair, it hangs loosely around his chin, framing his face.

Irrelevant, I tell myself, neutralize the threat.

But my god, he is so tall. I've been trained to take down opponents larger than myself, especially since they're almost always larger than me. I waste no more time, and with one low, sweeping kick, I have knocked his legs out from underneath him. He lets out a cry of surprise before crumpling to the ground. Before he has time to react, I wrap my forearm around his neck, my wrists find each other, interlocking with the other. My grip is textbook perfect, and I begin pulling back, using the full weight of my body to close down on his windpipe. He realizes I'm going to render him unconscious and I feel his fingers trying desperately to pry me away.

Vasilisa must realize something is wrong because she lets out a yelp, "Dimitri!"

All I need is a few more seconds, just a little bit more pressure. His fingers slip away and I feel his body go limp. My grip slackens, and I know I've succeeded. I remove the goggles and reignite the lantern by tapping it against the dresser once more.

Vasilisa gasps at the sight, but I ignore her. My fingers move to the maroon belt cinched at my waist, I remove it quickly and begin moving the man, whose name I now know is Dimitri, forward. I pull his arms behind his back and tie them together deftly with the belt.

Vasilisa leaps off of the bed, but I spin around to meet her. Dimitri slides to the floor with a thump, a tiny moan escaping his lips. She looks like she might attack me, but something about my demeanor makes her think again. Her eyes dart to wear Dimitri lays on the floor.

"You said no one would get hurt!"

"He's fine," I tell her. "Now go! Tell Victor before some one else comes up here."

She begins moving toward the door, but I grab her wrist before she's made it out. Her head whips around, her eyes wide with terror.

"Remember," I say through gritted teeth. "If you cross me, I'll call. And now you have him to worry about," I gesture toward Dimitri at the end of my threat for emphasis.

She rips her arm from my grasp and moves into the hallway. At this point, I don't care what she does, I'm in too deep. I can think of at least four times I have gone against Risk Prevention protocol tonight, just off the top of my head. It would probably be best if I just bust these people, have them arrested, and hope that I can find another way to speak with Victor before he is sent off to one of the rehabilitation camps.

Dimitri stirs behind me, and let's out a groan. Apparently I hadn't done as good a job as I had thought if he's already waking up. I slip my arms beneath his and try to drag him toward the wall so that I can prop him up, but it's no use. He is massive, and while I am strong, I'm not that strong. I decide to leave him where he is, lowering his torso gently onto the floor. His eyes flutter open, and I find myself staring into two endlessly deep, brown eyes. He blinks again in surprise, and then his face contorts in recognition. I pull out the knife that I always keep in my boot and press it against his throat before he can do anything else.

"Please don't," I say exasperatedly. "I'm tired, don't make me fight you."

"What have you done with Lissa?" He growls.

Of course that's what he wants to know. He tries to sit up, but I spin around from behind him and position myself on top of him, the knife never leaving his throat. Alberta would have been impressed. His arms are pinned beneath him, and his range of mobility is severely limited now that I am straddling him.

I look down at Dimitri, and to my surprise, my heart is racing. I am momentarily caught off guard by how, for lack of a better word…how beautiful he is. I force myself not to blush. I've been in this position before, well minus the knife. Though, not as many times as one might assume of a NAAMA soldier. Soldiers have a reputation for being…promiscuous. Boys and girls are raised together, we live together, train together, and well…it just kind of happens. Our superiors don't actually do anything to punish us for it either. If anything, we are encouraged to engage in sexual activities. We are the best humanity has to offer after all – the fiercest, the strongest, and the offspring of soldiers are considered to be superior to the offspring of civilians. If a female soldier gets pregnant, she is taken out of rotation until after she gives birth, and then the child is taken away to be raised in a military academy.

"Did you hurt her?" he shouts, his words pulling me from my reverie.

I apply pressure to the knife, not enough to draw blood, but enough to tell him I mean business. I bring my face closer to his, my long hair spilling over my shoulder, brushing against the floor beneath us.

"Quiet," I hiss. "What happens to her depends on your behavior."

He opens his mouth to speak, but his words fall short at the sound of footsteps.

"I'm going to let you sit up," I tell him calmly. "But one wrong move and I will bury this knife in her chest."

His expression darkens and his brown eyes are alight with rage and disgust. Again, I am bluffing, but he doesn't need to know that. Soldiers are known for being cold and heartless, and right now that is working to my advantage. Dimitri can't see the scared girl that I feel like most of the time, I can't betray any vulnerability. So I play the part.

I hesitate before climbing off of him just as Vasilisa opens the door. To my relief, and to my slight surprise, Victor is with her. Her eyes dart between the knife still clutched in my hand and where Dimitri still lays on the floor. She lets out a strangled cry before rushing to his side to help him sit up. I ignore them.

It's him.

Victor.

The man who knows what happened to my parents, what really happened.

He doesn't seem phased by my presence, or at the scene that is unfolding before him. He remains calm and he meets my gaze unflinchingly.

"Hello," he says, smiling. "Vasilisa tells me that you would like to have a chat."

Hey everyone! I'm glad you guys like the story so far! And as for the relationship between Lissa and Dimitri goes, it's completely platonic I promise. I could have easily made Dimitri one of Rose's instructors, but I feel like that has been done to death. In the actual VA novels, Rose and Dimitri are brought together because his job is to protect Lissa, and I wanted to parallel that concept in this story. Also, I know Rose seems kind of heartless right now, but that won't last forever. I have my reasons I swear! Please let me know what you thought about this chapter!