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“Mama, I promise you, he’s fine. He’s in protective custody. He?—”
Her eyes pierce into Sofi’s with a ferocity I’ve never seen in her before. “They cannot protect him. They will not protect him. Eti tupyye politseyskiye ne znayut, chto budet dal'she…”
“Mama, please!”
Sofi wraps Asya up in a hug to calm her down. I check my phone to see if maybe, by some miracle, Pasha has texted me yet.
Nothing.
I steel my resolve to get through this in one piece—to get us through all of this—and then I join my newfound sister in pulling our mother out of the darkness.
48
DAPHNE
It’s been three days.
Three long, tense days of waiting for Pasha to text, call, or appear at the front door. Sofiya is the only one who enters or leaves, bringing us gifts and bits of news whenever she can.
Makari is in federal prison. His bail hearing was yesterday and he was denied release. Closed courtroom. No explanation.
“Homeland Security is breathing down our necks,” Sofi explains while I change Taty’s diaper. “They made sure Mak can’t utilize any of our connections that would have gotten him out of there. Pasha’s holed up in the corporate tower. He can’t leave without running into a group of agents from one department or another. They’re auditing the whole corporation, all affiliates, everything.”
I tickle Taty’s tummy to maybe get her to laugh—a gurgle of sunshine we all need during this storm. It doesn’t quite work, but she does smile and wave her arms at her auntie.
“How are you holding up?” I ask Sofi. She’s been putting on a strong front, but I know this must be weighing down on her.
She blows out a long burst of air and flops back on the couch. “Barely. I have to pretend like I’m this airheaded bimbo who just visits her brothers and knows nothing about anything.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Right? But it’s the only reason why I’m not in prison like Mak. They found the guns at his range, but imagine…” She shakes her head with a sarcastic scoff. “It’s a mess. It’s all a big, fucking mess.”
“Why do you think they haven’t taken Pasha?” I’m glad they haven’t, but I honestly thought that, out of all of them, he’d be the first behind bars.
“Some twisted fear of double jeopardy is my guess. After Smithson’s bullshit, it would make everyone look terrible if they washed, rinsed, and repeated the process without turning over every single leaf and dotting every i, you know?”
“Makes sense.” I bundle the dirty diaper and toss it. Sofi takes a moment to rest a hand on her niece’s tummy and murmurs a long, soft babble of Russian.
I’m sanitizing my hands when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I whip it out and nearly yelp with relief.
“Pasha!” When the screen fills with his face on video call, I feel myself wanting to cry. “Baby! How are you?”
“Forget me,” he chuckles wearily. “Tell me about you. How are things? How is Taty?”
I bring the phone over to where Sofi is bouncing her on her knee. “She’s almost laughing. Not quite there yet, but?—”
Muffled voices interrupt in the background of Pasha’s office. His gaze darts away for a second, then returns with even more exhaustion touching the corners of his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl. Daddy’s gotta go.”
“But, Pasha?—”
“I love you both.”
And then he’s gone.
I tell myself that this is an emergency situation. That Pasha is doing what he always swore to me he’d do from the start: protecting us, fighting for us. Keeping us safe from everyone out to tear our family apart.
