"Where are we going?" asked Anna, keeping her pistol aimed at Sokolov's back.

"To Doctor Berkut's office. Third floor, west wing," he spoke calmly, as if conducting a tour. "A surprise awaits you there."

"What kind of surprise?"

"You'll see," Sokolov smiled slightly. "The doctor has prepared everything very carefully."

They climbed a wide marble staircase to the second floor. Here the corridor split in two—right and left. Sokolov turned right, toward another staircase.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Anna, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why all of this?"

Sokolov stopped but didn't turn around.

"You wouldn't understand. No one understands until they experience it firsthand," he spoke quietly, as if sharing something intimate. "What Doctor Berkut does isn't just an experiment. It's… human evolution. A chance to become something greater. To see beyond the ordinary."

"You kidnap and torture children," cold contempt sounded in Anna's voice. "Is that evolution?"

"You're mistaken, detective. We don't cause them pain. We… liberate them. It's like taking off a heavy backpack after a long day. Only the backpack is the limitations of one's own personality."

He moved forward again, continuing to speak:

"Doctor Berkut has found a way to go beyond individual consciousness. To touch something… greater. You can't even imagine what opens up there, beyond the boundary."

Anna caught strange notes in his voice—a mixture of religious ecstasy and fanaticism. It seemed Berkut was truly not just a leader to them, but something of a guru.

They climbed to the third floor. It was noticeably brighter here—modern lighting fixtures, fresh paint on the walls. Nothing resembled an abandoned sanatorium. Sokolov stopped in front of large double doors at the end of the corridor.

"The doctor is waiting for you inside," he stepped aside. "Alone."

"That's not happening," Anna gripped her pistol tighter. "Open it."

Sokolov shrugged and pushed the door. Behind it was a spacious office with panoramic windows overlooking the forest. Modern furniture, elegant design, paintings on the walls. And books—hundreds of books on shelves from floor to ceiling. Alexander Viktorovich Berkut sat behind a massive dark wood desk.

"Anna Vitalyevna," he smiled, rising to meet her. "I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

"Where is Sophia Velichko?" Anna aimed her pistol at him, not wasting time on pleasantries.

"Safe, I assure you," Berkut gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite his desk. "Why don't we talk first? There's so much I'd like to tell you."

"I'm not going to play your games," Anna remained standing in place. "Where is the girl?"

Dorokhov, who had quietly entered the office behind Anna, kept Sokolov at gunpoint.

"Maybe we should search the building?" he suggested. "The team is ready."

Berkut sighed with theatrical disappointment.

"How banal. I expected more understanding from you, Anna Vitalyevna. But if you insist…" he pressed a button on his desk. "Igor, escort Detective Sviridova to the laboratory. Show her our guest."

"Dorokhov, stay here," Anna ordered. "Don't take your eyes off him. And call for backup."

She followed Sokolov, who led her down the corridor to an elevator at the end of the wing. The metal doors slid open with a soft hiss. Inside were only two buttons: up and down. Sokolov pressed "down."

"How many levels are underground?" Anna asked, not expecting an answer.

"Three," Sokolov unexpectedly replied. "The doctor repurposed the old bomb shelters. The result is… impressive."

The elevator seemed to descend forever. Finally, the doors opened, and Anna saw a long, brightly lit corridor. Sterile cleanliness, white walls, closed doors with small windows. Like a hospital. Or a prison.