The estate isquiet when we arrive.
Staff take the twins without being asked, Elena appearing at the door the moment the vehicles stop like she’s been watching from the window. Mila goes to her half-asleep, one arm still reaching back for me until Elena tucks her against her shoulder and carries her inside.
Alexei walks on his own but stays close to my side until we reach the stairs and then he stops and looks up at me. “Are you staying?” he asks.
“I live here.”
“I mean are you staying tonight. In the house.”
“Yes.”
He nods once, satisfied, and follows Elena up the stairs without another word.
I watch them go. The house settles around us, security moving through their rotation outside, the staff dispersing back to theirquarters. Pavel checks in at the door and I tell him we’re done for the night and he leaves without needing anything else from me.
And then it’s just Anna.
She’s standing in the foyer with her arms wrapped around herself, still in the clothes she was taken in, a bruise along her left cheekbone that has gone deep purple in the hours since the warehouse. She looks like a woman who has been running on adrenaline for twelve hours and has just felt it leave.
“The twins are down,” I say.
“I know.”
“Your father is stable. Your mother is with him. Dasha will check on them both before morning.”
“I know that too.”
I look at her. “Come with me.”
I take her to my study. Not the bedroom. Not yet. The study because it’s where I go when I need to think and right now I need to say things that require a clear head and a closed door.
She sits in the chair across from my desk. I don’t sit behind it. I stand in front of it and look at her and let the silence settle for a moment before I speak.
“You went to a Malikov front operation alone,” I say. “Without telling anyone. Without backup. Without any understanding of what you were walking into.”
“Yes.”
“You made a call to Gennady and pulled on a thread that led directly into the most dangerous network in this city and thenyou followed that thread into a room by yourself because you decided you could handle it.”
“Yes.”
“Your father has a repaired vessel in his abdomen tonight because of that decision. Our children sat on a warehouse floor for hours because of that decision. Two of my men are in a hospital with injuries that will take weeks to heal because of that decision.”
She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t try to explain or justify. Just sits there and takes it.
“You almost got them killed,” I say. “You almost got yourself killed.”
“I know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I know exactly what I did.”
“Then why?”
“Because I was angry. Because I found those documents and I felt stupid for believing you and I wanted to prove I could protect my family without you.” She stops. Swallows. “Because proving I didn’t need you felt more important than being careful, and I told myself it was about protecting them, but it wasn’t. It was about my pride.” Her eyes are wet now. “And my father almost died for it.”
The last word breaks slightly. She pulls it back, but not fast enough.
I cross the room and crouch in front of her chair. She’s holding herself together with visible effort, jaw tight, hands gripping her own arms.
“Anna.”
