"But not dead." Semyon takes a long drink of his own coffee. "Which means he's dangerous. Wounded animals always are."
I nod, then regret it when my head pounds. "We need a plan."
"We need you to heal first." His tone is firm. "You're no good to anyone if you're dead. You’re up now, but that’s only because I pumped you full of meds and painkillers.”
“Trust me, I feel the pain.”
“Oh no, you’d be feeling a lot more pain if you didn’t have my magic juice running through your veins. You have to heal. When I tell you death was close, I’m not joking. I honestly thought you were gone.”
"I'm no good to anyone if Roman gets to Kira or Anya while I'm lying in bed either."
We stare at each other, both stubborn, both unwilling to back down.
"I've got a lot to tell you," Semyon says finally. "But I need to know—are you ready to hear it? All of it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there are things I've learned. Things I've suspected for years but couldn't prove. Things about Roman. About what really happened."
"Tell me."
He takes a breath, and I see something in his eyes I've never seen before. Fear. Semyon's not afraid of anything, but he's afraid now.
"I don't have proof," he starts. "Not hard evidence. But I've pieced things together over the years, and I believe—" He stops, jaw clenching. "I believe Roman killed your father."
I want to be surprised, but I think part of me already knew.
"My father died of a heart attack."
"Did he?" Semyon leans forward. "A healthy man, fifty-three years old, no history of heart problems. Dies suddenly in his sleep six months after you disappeared. Convenient timing, don't you think?"
"People have heart attacks—"
"He was poisoned." Semyon's voice is flat. Certain. "I can't prove it, but I know it. Roman needed you gone, but he also needed your father gone. With both of you out of the way, there was no one to challenge his claim to leadership."
My mind races, trying to process this. My father. Murdered.
"Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you investigate?"
"With what evidence?" Semyon's frustration bleeds through. "I had suspicions. Gut feelings. But Roman controlled everything by then—the doctors, the autopsy, the funeral arrangements. Any investigation would have led back to him, and he would have known I was suspicious."
"So, you stayed quiet."
"I stayed alive." His eyes meet mine. "I had to wait for the right moment. If I had moved against Roman then, I'd be dead, and you'd have no one."
He's right. I hate that he's right, but he is.
"Tell me everything," I say. "Every suspicion. Every theory. All of it."
He does.
It takes twenty minutes, and with each revelation, my rage builds. The careful manipulation. The strategic eliminations.The way Roman positioned himself perfectly to inherit everything.
All stolen by someone I trusted like family.
"I'll kill him." The words come out cold. "I'm going to put a bullet in his head and watch him take his last breath."
Semyon's smile is grim. "But first, you heal. We plan. We do this right."
