Page 92 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

I reach for the envelope.

Inside is a single image. Ivan is walking beside Anna, winter hat pulled low over his curls, one hand clutching the strap of a backpack. His mouth is serious. His eyes are lowered to a sheet of paper he is reading as he walks.

Anna is beside him, half-turned toward traffic.

He is safe.

He is watched.

My fingers tighten around the edge of the photograph before I force them to relax. “What’s his name?”

Papa tilts his head. “Names complicate matters before the proper time.”

The paper bends slightly under my thumb. “You said I would get to see him.”

“And you are looking at him.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I force myself not to become hysterical.

“No,” Papa says. “But it is what you have earned.”

I keep my eyes on the photograph. If I look at him, I may show too much.

“Where is he?”

“Safe.”

“With whom?”

“People who have provided stability.”

“Do they know who he is?”

“They know enough.”

Not true.

Not the full truth.

Never the full truth.

I place the photograph on my lap, one hand resting over it as if I cannot bear to let it go. “What do you want?”

His eyes return to mine. “You sound like Aleksander.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.” He smiles faintly. “Direct. Impatient. Occasionally unwise.”

I say nothing.

“You will tell Sokolov. Of course you will. I want to know what kind of man he becomes when you do.” He pauses, watching my reaction. “A wife hears things men do not think to conceal.” It almost sounds reasonable.

“What do you want?” I ask again.

“Context.”

One harmless word to cover betrayal.