Page 73 of Black Ledger

“Which means she is taunting more of your men,” Nika added, picking up one of the pictures of a severed head. “And she tends to send body parts, or presumably her previous victims, to her next ones.”

“Culminating in the head?” Ilya asked.

Nika ran her finger along the image. “I wish these were digital so we could know that for sure, because if the head is the last gift, we could prepare for when she tries to take her next victim.”

“Yes, that would be helpful.” I took another sip. “If those pictures are digital, you would probably be able to find them on one of his computers or possibly one of the previous victims’ computers. Nika, start with this one.” I walked to a drawer, pulled out my father’s personal computer, and handed it to her. “And Ilya, go to the victims we can identify and get theirs.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in turn.

“And Dimitri, we need to smoke out her current targets so we can monitor them, and since I doubt any of them will be forthcoming, let’s make them come out of hiding.”

“What were you thinking?” Dimitri raised an eyebrow.

“Announce to all the brigadiers, captains, and made men that we are doing a mass audit. Let them know that we will be tightening security and monitoring movements. Let them know we are looking for inconsistencies and missing money.” I ran a finger along the rim of my glass. “Then you watch them. See who moves things, hides things, or starts acting noticeably off.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan.” Dimitri nodded.

“Let’s hope it is,” I said. “Now, if you excuse me, I am nearly late for dinner.”

They all nodded their goodbyes and walked with me out of the spy room.

Then I made my way downstairs to the dining hall to have dinner with Aurora—only family called her that. Everyone else knew her as Svetlana. Aurora was the name her mother had wanted her to have. A very non-Russian name.

Mikhail didn’t like talking about his dead wife with me because it was too painful a topic, but I had learned—with a lot of effort—that she was only part Russian. I related to Mikhail in this way because I found it nearly impossible to talk about Xeniya with anyone. Half the time, I felt like life wasn’t worth living without her.

At first, I stayed alive for vengeance. Her murderers weren’t all dead yet. My revenge, my rage, my inability to let any of them live fueled me. I’d once thought that when I was all done, I’d end it all and I would kill myself.

But then Aurora came into my life.

Now, I lived for her, and I never missed dinner with her when I was in town. The girl was fragile, even though she would never admit it.

Since Mikhail was also in town from Russia, he sat down to dinner with us. It was awkward because, despite his effort, he didn’t have a paternal bone in his body, and he certainly didn’t know how to talk to a child.

Probably why he left Aurora with me and why she thought of me as more of her father than him.

But at least he tried. Our father had never done that for us.

Chapter Thirty

Xeniya Morozova

Age 35

The good news was that my meltdown hadn’t happened at the Russian compound. The bad news was that it happened in the middle of a torture session with Aleksandr.

Embarrassing, to say the least.

It started with purple.

I was branding Aleksandr’s right arm with the words Fuck me like you mean it when my gaze snagged on the purple beneath his skin. Then my vision blurred, and I dropped to the floor, holding my head.

For a long moment, I couldn’t see again. It was like before—like my greatest nightmare. All I saw was purple and felt the crushing weight of silence. There should have been screams, but all I heard was silence.

Fucking purple.

The color that haunted me for ten years.

I didn’t know how long it took me to get myself together and for my vision to return to normal. But far, far too long.