The terrace doors close behind us, cutting off the warm chaos of family. The Chicago night is thick with humidity, the air tasting of coming storm. I move to the stone railing, gripping it hard enough that the rough surface bites into my palms, a small pain to focus on instead of the larger one crushing my chest.
"You've lied to me twice," Nico says without preamble. No warm-up, no gentle approach. Just straight to the heart of it. "On the phone. And just now at dinner."
I don't turn. Can't face those hazel eyes that have seen every evolution of who I am. "Nico—"
"We have a pact, Sof. Nine years of nothing but truth between us." His voice carries the weight of all those dawn training sessions, all those shared silences, all those moments when we were each other's only safe harbor. "Why are you breaking it now?"
The words sit between us like a blade, sharp and undeniable. I think about that night when I was sixteen, shaking apart from nightmares about blood and Russian voices, and Nico holding me together with just his presence and a promise of honesty.
"I can't," I whisper.
"You mean you won't."
"I mean I can't." My voice cracks. "Because telling you changes everything between us."
"Something already has changed." He moves beside me, and I catch his reflection in the dark window: tired, concerned, already mourning what we're losing. "I can't lose you," Nico whispers. "Not to him. Not to anyone."
"You won't lose me. I'm still your sister. Still the girl who can't whistle and does bird calls instead."
He almost laughs. Almost.
"If he hurts you—"
"Then you'll storm the compound with Luca and his goat. I know."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." I squeeze his hand. "I have to go back. And you have to let me. I’ve escaped several times, I can escape again if I need to."
Another lie.
"Will you at least… tell me if you're in danger? Real danger?"
"Yes." This, at least, isn't a lie. "That promise I'll keep."
He pulls me into a hug. Tight. Desperate.
"I love you, little bird."
"I love you too."
And I'm so sorry for all the ways I'm going to break your heart.
21 - Alexei
She hasn’t been gone three hours yet, but it feels like three years.
I sit in my study, trying to review compound security feeds, deciding which of my men I can still trust. The vodka bottle sweats beside me, condensation pooling on mahogany. A glass poured, untouched. My throat is too tight to swallow anything but doubt.
Three hours since she walked out to meet them. Three hours of not knowing if she'll choose them over me.
My phone buzzes. Katya calling from Moscow again. Her messages pile up, each more urgent than the last about our mother's deteriorating condition. I should answer. Should tell her I'm handling things here first. But I can't form the words, can't explain that I'm waiting for a Rosetti woman like my life depends on it.
She could stay. They're her blood, her real family. Resources, protection, the life she was born into. What do I have? A compound full of men who want her dead, a brother's ghost that won't let me sleep, and this obsession that's rewritten my DNA.
I check the guard rotation on my screen. Something's off about tonight's pattern. Pavel's on the wrong corridor, Boris took his break ten minutes early. Small things. I file them away, too distracted to analyze properly.
The cursor blinks on a weapons shipment report from Prague. The words blur together. Nothing exists except wondering if that car will ever return.
