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I trace the fine hairs of Kristof’s chest and press a kiss into the wiry goatee at his jaw, unable to take my eyes off him in case I blink, wake up, and discover this was all a dream.
He locks eyes with me, tenderly tucking some hair behind my ear.
Then, a niggling thought sparks in my mind as I stare into the sad depth of his eyes.
Kristof is here and alive, but as Alyona pointed out back at the house, there were only two possible outcomes.
Either Kristof dies, or my father does.
Does Kristof’s survival mean that my father is dead? If that’s true, what was the attack on the estate even for? Maybe a desperate attempt to clutch power back.
“Kristof…” Slowly, I prop myself up on one hand, hovering over Kristof. His grip remains firm, unwilling to let me go.
“What happened?”
Kristof frowns slightly. “With what?”
“With… everything. What happened to my father? And…” I press my lips together as another question pops up. “Where are Ivan and Nastja?”
Kristof doesn’t answer.
4
KRISTOF
“Dead?” August’s voice booms throughout the entire room as my story reaches its climax.
“Hush,” I scold sharply and quickly place a gentle hand over Alena’s ear to stop any of August’s shock from reaching her. Thankfully, Alena, fast asleep with her head in my lap, doesn’t stir.
August stands near the largest window, framed by the heavy curtains and puffing desperately on a thick cigar held in one meaty hand. He doesn’t meet my gaze, choosing instead to stare out across his estate as he processes the news of Ivan’s and Nastja’s deaths.
Processing that I, myself, can’t do.
I hadn’t been able to say it out loud to Alena when she stared up at me with those wide, tear-filled eyes. Somehow, revealing the truth to her made it all too real, and I’m unable to accept it yet. Even though I was the one there and saw them both pass with my own eyes, part of me doesn’t accept it. That part is running the show right now, and I’m far too exhausted to fight it.
“Sorry,” August finally says, and a cloud of smoke hides his face from view for a few seconds. “I just… I can’t believe it.”
“Me neither.” Satisfied that Alena remains fast asleep, I lean down and press my lips to her temple, lingering there to soak up the warmth of her skin against mine. Those hours I spent not knowing whether she was alive or not were the worst of my life and a feeling I care not to repeat. Alena stirs briefly with a soft sigh, but her eyes remain closed as I slide out from underneath her and replace my lap with a pillow. I’m almost loathe to be apart from her, but I need to talk to August.
“Tell me,” August says, finally turning to look at me as I approach him. “Tell me everything.”
He offers me a cigar from a sleek wooden box, but I decline, half my attention split on watching Alena sleep.
“It was my fault,” I explain in a low voice. “Sometimes, I forget how well we work together. We swept the building in record time, taking a floor each because Aleksander was on the third. We cleared out everyone we could find and then met in the stairwell for the finale. Aleksander was surprised. I don’t think he knew we were coming until we were right at his door.”
Flashes of that fight burst through my mind as I talk, and emotion wells up, wrapping its claws around my throat and making each word drag from me like a curse.
“I kicked in the door, and he was there with all his guards. Alexei was there too. Most of the men looked like Kuznetsovs, if I had to guess.”
August grunts in response but says nothing. His warm eyes are fixed on me and his busy brow pulls low.
“I mocked him. Couldn’t help myself. I was overconfident in far too many things, and I was certain we could take him. Aleksander’s good at a lot of things, but he’s never been great at a one-on-one. Always relies on others.” A deep, pained sigh slips out of me unexpectedly, and my words falter. “He said all the shit a man with a target on his back says. Typical threats, you know the shit. But he… when I told him his time was up, that he was nothing but detrimental to the Family, somehow, that affected him more than Alena.”
“Slimy bastard,” August growled. “I have lost more men than I care to count because of the lack of support he has offered back here. I strive to support the family of every man or woman who gives their life for me, but even I am at my limit, and where was Aleksander when I asked for help?” August puffs rapidly on his cigar, muting his anger under a cloud of smoke.
My eyes drift briefly outside. Snow covers hedges as far as the eye can see, and several armed patrols walk around the paths that weave across August’s great garden. Trees taller than I’ve ever seen in my life tower over the mansion, and they twinkle with lights that turn the snow and ice into a glitterball. Knowing August, every twinkling light I see is either a camera or an explosive.
“Your siblings,” August speaks up with a low voice. “How did they…?”
