“Yes, my grandson, Viktor.” Svetlana’s eyes return to me, sharper now, measuring as she lifts a finger. “But then a miracle happened. After Viktor’s first wife died giving birth tohisson, he took a second wifewho gave him a second child,” she says softly.
“Viktor had two children?” I ask, ice crawling up my spine.
“Yes, for a time, after Viktor’s second son was born, it seemed the family curse was broken.”
I step forward as Svetlana unwittingly answers my question. But I can hardly believe my ears. “That means Pyotr had a brother,” I clarify.
Svetlana’s eyes twinkle as she nods, and she leans in as well, her voice growing conspiratorial. “An older brother. The true heir to Viktor’s crown.”
I’m stunned that this wouldn’t be more common knowledge.
The only reason I can think of that the Novikovs would want to cover it up is if something happened to Viktor’s heir—something terrible that they didn’t want going public.
My first thought is that Pyotr must have killed his brother.
It would fit his sociopathic tendencies, and if Viktor intended to give his empire to his younger son after his older child’s death, he wouldn’t want people to think Pyotr was responsible.
“What happened to him?” I ask. “Viktor’s first child.”
“He was taken,” Svetlana says, her voice ripe with mystery.
She would make for an impressive storyteller, but the suspense is killing me when all I want to know is if I need to be looking over my shoulder for another Novikov monster.
“By whom?” I press, keeping my frustration in check.
“Why, don’t you know? I’d have thought Don Augusta would have loved telling you the story—considering he plays the role of the villain.”
My throat tightens, and I take a step closer. “You’re saying… the Don took Viktor’s son? Why?” My head is already spinning as I try to make sense of her story—to weed out the lies andthe fables. Only, every word Svetlana’s said rings dangerously of truth.
“Because he wanted to break us. To punish Viktor for daring to take territory that didn’t belong to him. He saw us as a threat, so he took what was most precious to my grandson. Because he knew that Viktor would never retaliate for fear of what might happen to his child. Don Augusta took that boy. He raised him far from our name, shaped him into something else. Someoneelse entirely.”
I shake my head, my heart hammering against my ribs as a lead ball settles in my stomach. “That’s impossible.”
Svetlana doesn’t flinch.
Just reaches over to a drawer in the table beside her and pulls out a small velvet box.
She opens it, revealing a locket—made of old gold and worn with age.
She hands it to me, and I meet her gaze before I flip it open.
Two little boys stare back at me from behind the glass, one still a baby, the other no more than three as he struggles to hold his baby brother around the waist.
No. No, no, no.
“You knew.” My voice is jagged. “This whole time. You knew who I was.”
“Of course I knew,” she chides. “You think I wouldn’t recognize my own blood? It doesn’t matter that I haven’t seen you since you were a toddler. I felt it in my bones the moment I laid eyeson you. You move like your grandfather. And your eyes hold the same sadness Viktor’s had.”
I can’t breathe.
Don Augusta—my mentor, my father, my tyrant. He raised me to hate the Novikovs. To burn them down. And I did. For months, I’ve led the charge against them. I’ve reveled in their destruction. I killed theirPakhan.
I cut Pyotr’s throat and watched the life drain from his eyes as he bled out.
“Pyotr,” I whisper. “He was my brother.”
The locket slips from my hand and hits the floor with a soft thud.
