5 - Alexei
The phone rings at 6:06 AM. Moscow time—afternoon there. I know before I answer.
"Alyosha." Katya's voice comes through tired, strained. "Mama had a bad night."
"How bad?"
"The doctors say weeks now. Maybe less."
I stare out my window at the grey Chicago dawn. The city looks cold, indifferent. Eleven years I've been planning this moment, and now time runs out like sand through fingers.
"She keeps asking about Misha. Whether he's been avenged." My sister's voice cracks slightly. "She says she can't rest until she knows."
My jaw tightens. "Tell her soon."
"Is it? Soon?" Katya's voice drops. "Because whatever you're doing there, whatever you're planning, she's running out of time, Alexei."
"I said soon."
"She wants to die knowing her son's death meant something. Can you give her that?"
I think of Sofia in her suite upstairs, calm as still water. Unbothered. Unbroken. The woman who mentions Mikhail's name like she has any right to speak it.
"Today," I say. "Tell her today."
I hang up before Katya can respond.
Mama's dying breath will ask if I've avenged him. How do I tell her that his killer makes me hard? That I think about her mouth more than I think about her death?
The security monitors glow in the morning darkness. I pull up Sofia's feed. She's still asleep, curled on her side in the rough cotton nightdress I provided, nothing like the pampered princess she pretends to be. Her breathing is even, peaceful.
The feed shows her sleeping now, but I saw earlier… No.I push that image away. It changes nothing.
Eleven years of waiting. My mother dying without peace. And the woman responsible sleeps like a child.
Enough.
I study the feed logs from last night. Something catches my eye. Gaps between 2 and 4 AM. Three cameras flickered. Fifteen-second blackouts, staggered. That's not a glitch. That's deliberate. Professional. My jaw clenches as the implications hit. Someone tampered with my security. In my own compound.
I rewind through the footage, studying every frame before and after the blackouts. The hallway cameras show nothing. Her room feed shows her in bed before, in bed after. But those fifteen seconds…
She knows things. Has skills she's hiding. Good. When I have her in the basement, I'll make her tell me everything.
Today, Sofia Rosetti dies.
I don't knock. The door slams open against the wall, and she's awake instantly. Not princess reflexes. Soldier reflexes. She sits up, pulls the thin blanket to her chest. Those blue eyes find mine, assess the danger immediately.
For the first time since I took her, I see something flicker there. Fear. Real fear.
Good.
"Get up."
"Alexei…"
"Now."
She stands without argument. The nightdress hits mid-thigh, her feet bare against the cold floor. She looks small, fragile. I know better.
