Kira
Nicolai’s officefeels different today—smaller somehow, as if the weight of what I’m about to do has compressed the very air between these familiar walls. He taught me accounting principles at the same mahogany desk when I was twelve. The same leather chairs where we’ve solved countless family crises over the years.
The same brother who’s about to discover that his little sister has become someone capable of patricide.
“You look terrible,” he observes without looking up from his financial reports. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“Sleep is overrated.” I settle into the chair across from him, noting how his pale green eyes intensely study my face. He sees too much, always has. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
“About a meeting, Father might ask you to attend. Soon. Possibly today or tomorrow.”
Now he does look up, setting his pen down with the deliberate precision that’s characterized every movement since childhood. “What kind of meeting?”
“The kind where he’ll want his most trusted advisors present. You, specifically. Maybe Misha and Zoya, if he’s feeling particularly cautious.”
“Kira.” Nicolai’s voice carries that edge of authority he’s cultivated since becoming Father’s financial architect. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I lean forward, choosing my words with the same care I’d use to defuse a bomb. Because in a way, that’s exactly what this conversation is.
“I need you to promise me something first.”
“I’m not making blind promises to you. Not anymore. Not after the last few weeks of watching you spiral into whatever this obsession with Rafael Rosso has become.”
The accusation stings because it’s partially true. I have been obsessed with Rafa—just not in the way Nicolai thinks.
“This isn’t about Rafael. This is about survival. Yours, specifically.”
“Explain.”
“Father is planning something. Something that’s going to put him and Alexei in significant danger.” I pause, watching his expression. “Something that could destroy our family if you’re caught in the crossfire.”
Nicolai leans back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. “You’re being deliberately vague. Why?”
“Because the less you know, the safer you’ll be when this is over.”
“When what is over?”
“The meeting I’m warning you about. The one where Father thinks he’s going to eliminate a problem but instead walks into—” I stop myself before I can say ‘trap.’ “Into a situation he’s not prepared for.”
“A situation you know about in advance.”
“Yes.”
“A situation you’re involved in creating.”
“Yes.”
The admission hangs between us like a blade. Nicolai’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the moment understanding begins to dawn. The careful calculation in his eyes as he pieces together implications I can’t say outright.
“Kira.” His voice is hushed now. “What have you done?”
“What I had to do to protect the people I love.”
“By betraying the people you should love most?”
The question hits like a physical blow. “Is it betrayal if they were planning to betray me first?”
