The tension in the room was palpable as you stood outside Alina Ivanova's door, the cold Moscow air biting at your face. Everything was planned to perfection, every angle calculated, and every escape route secured. You tightened your gloves and knocked firmly on the door.

Moments later, the door opened. There she was-Alina Ivanova. Her piercing icy gray-blue eyes locked onto yours with an unflinching stare, her neutral expression betraying no emotion. She looked as calm and composed as the rumors described, but there was a sharpness in her gaze, a hint of suspicion.

Before she could react, you stepped forward swiftly, shutting the door behind you, leaving it slightly ajar to ensure a silent escape. In a single, fluid motion, you grabbed Alina's arm and forced her to the floor. She struggled, surprisingly strong, for her slim frame, but you maintained control, pinning her down.

As you reached into your pocket and pulled out the alcohol-soaked tissue, her expression remained eerily composed. She didn't scream or cry out for help. Instead, her cold, calculating gaze bore into you as though she were already analyzing your next move.

You moved to press the tissue over her nose and mouth when, in a blur of movement, her slender legs came up, twisting and knocking you off balance.