"The nail salon owned by C.H.T. Onix?" Another step. "Which is owned by Furies Corporation?" Another. "Which is connected to Eryan Nis?"
He's too close now. Sharing my space. Looming over me with barely contained violence.
My heart hammers against my ribs. My throat goes dry.
They know. Somehow, they know.
That's when the smell hits me.
Burning.
I spin toward the stove. The perfect omelet is now blackened. Burned. Ruined.
Instinct takes over. I reach for the pan without thinking.
My hand closes around the metal handle.
Pain explodes through my palm. White-hot. Searing.
I scream and drop the skillet. It hits the floor with a crash that echoes through the suddenly silent kitchen. Blackened egg fragments scatter across the tile like ash.
I cradle my burned hand against my chest, tears springing to my eyes from the pain.
"Let me see."
Zakhar's voice has completely changed. Gentle. Concerned. All the menace gone in an instant.
"It's nothing," I start, but he's already pulling my hand toward him with careful fingers.
His touch is impossibly gentle as he examines the burn. Red. Blistering across my palm.
Alexei appears at my side with the first aid kit. His fury momentarily forgotten in the face of my injury.
Maksim guides me toward the living room. His hand on my elbow is firm but not rough. Leading me to the sofa with the particular care reserved for something breakable.
I sit. Maksim settles on the coffee table in front of me, taking my injured hand in his. Opens the first aid kit with precise movements.
The burn isn't serious. Painful, but not dangerous.
He works in silence. Cleaning the burn with gentle efficiency. Applying ointment. Wrapping gauze around my palm with steady hands.
Behind the sofa, I hear Alexei pacing. Tight, restless steps that speak of rage.
Zakhar has taken one of the leather chairs. I can feel him watching me. Tension radiating from his stillness.
This is it. The moment where all my secrets come crashing down. Where I lose everything I've built with them. Where the truth destroys whatever we were becoming.
But maybe that's what needs to happen. Maybe secrets have been poisoning this from the start. Maybe honesty, no matter how devastating, is the only path forward.
I love them. I trust them. I don't want to lose them.
So I'll tell them everything. The whole truth. And whatever happens after, at least they'll know who I really am.
Maksim finishes taping the gauze. Holds my hand for a moment longer than necessary. Then releases it and looks directly into my eyes.
"Are you working for Eryan Nis?" The question is quiet. Careful. But weighted with implications I can feel pressing against my chest.
I shake my head.
