I stare out the window, my hands twisting in my lap. “I overheard him talking to Dmitri.”
“About what?”
“Mama and Papa,” I whisper. “Katya…Yuri killed them.”
The words still burn my throat, even now.
Katya goes still beside me. “What?”
“He killed Papa first. Then Mama. Alexei knew about it.”
Her jaw drops. “Why would he…” She cuts herself off, swallowing hard. “Why would Yuri kill them? And why marry Mama if he killed her husband?”
“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “But we’re going to find out soon.”
The car soon slows down in front of a tall apartment building that gleams in the late afternoon light. Alexei steps out first and opens our door.
“This is Mikhail’s building,” he says quietly. “He’s letting us use his apartment while he’s in New York.”
In that moment, something occurs to me, like a light bulb coming on in my head.
“How did you get to LA before me?” I ask, blinking at Alexei in confusion.
“I've got eyes on you,” he answers, his tone annoyingly nonchalant.
My stomach twists. “You had me followed?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “I never stopped. I had to know you were safe. When you left for the airport, I got the alert. My jet was ready.”
Katya makes a sound of disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But she’s here safe, isn’t she?”
I don’t answer. I just follow him into the elevator, my pulse racing in my ears.
Mikhail’s apartment is breathtaking, open, and filled with light. A faint scent of cedar and cologne lingers in the air. It’s beautiful…but sterile. Everything about it screams bachelor perfection.
Katya mutters something about it being spotless, but I barely hear her. My chest feels tight as Alexei gestures for us to sit.
He takes the armchair opposite the couch where Katya and I sit, our shoulders pressed together.
“Talk,” Katya says sharply. “Now.”
Alexei exhales slowly, bracing his forearms on his knees. “Yuri killed your father.”
The words land like a sledgehammer, even though I already knew. Hearing them again makes it even more real.
He goes on, his voice low. “He wanted your mother. He knew your parents loved each other too much to ever separate. So he made sure Petr was out of the way.”
Katya’s breath hitches beside me. I can’t look at her.
I find my voice. “How long have you known?”
“About a year before I killed him.”
My gut twists. “You killed him?” The question escapes before I can stop it.
“Yes.” He says it like a confession and a curse. “He left me no choice.”
