Ruslan had confirmed that Vadim was still looking for me—and had described, with the careful detail of someone who understood what was at stake, how he had tried to play mind games with him in the office. Fishing for a location with the patience of a man who had learned that direct questions rarely produced the answers he wanted.
Which meant that for the time being he had no idea where I was. More importantly, he had no idea that Runa existed.
I held onto that knowledge the way I held onto the soil in my pendant. Carefully. Every day.
We had restricted our messages to once every two weeks. Vadim had unlimited resources and I had heard whispers of a hacker he kept on retainer—someone Valentin sourced, if Ruslan’s fragments were accurate. My vigilance had kept us hidden and it would continue. Every message deleted. Every word chosen with the awareness that someone, somewhere, might eventually be reading it.
Every photograph I took of Runa was kept offline. No cloud storage, no shared albums, no moments posted anywhere that could be traced or found or used. I simply held onto them—a private archive of her journey and mine. The motherhood I had never known I craved until it arrived and rearranged everything I thought I understood about myself.
Runa would have a record of her life. I would make sure of it.
Even if it only ever existed between the two of us.
Chapter 56
Vadim
It took the better part of a year for my home to be rebuilt. Not because of delays or lazy contractors, but because I expanded the property at the rear. To the naked eye the front looked identical—the same stone facade, the same gates, the same unremarkable approach. But foundations had been dug and a fresh set of rooms carved out before the rebuild began. The kitchen was longer now, opening out to the back. A double-storey extension on the east wing stood complete.
“Nice of you to make some extra room for me,brat,” Konstantin said, coming down the stairs.
“You moved our father’s killer in but refuse to let me live with you,” he complained, with the wounded dignity of a man who had rehearsed this argument.
“Like I said — you’re welcome to join him in the basement,” I said, my voice pleasant.
Olya was already in the kitchen, organising everything to her specifications with the focused energy of a woman who considered the new layout a personal challenge. Tau was doing rounds with thebyki, ensuring security remained rigorous. The men had tried to mock him for getting drugged by Iskra. He had remained silent in his usual manner and said nothing, which was somehow more unsettling than anything he could have said.
I hadn’t remained angry with Radovan or Tau. In the end she had fooled us all. She left me with photographic evidence of myself passed out and vulnerable, distributed to no one and kept only for herself—which was almost worse.
The memory irked me enough that I shouldered past my brother without a word.
My phone chimed. I reached for it as I strode toward the tall glass doors.
“Valentin,” I said, wondering why he was calling when we had concluded business not an hour ago.
“We might have found something,” he said, his voice carrying the brightness of a man about to deliver news he had been sitting on.
“Be more specific,” I said, my voice dry but composed.“You know how much we deal with.”
Then he said two words.
“Your wife.”
Time stopped for a moment while I processed the information.
I turned slowly and took in the shiny new kitchen—the longer counters, the glass doors, the east wing above it—and smiled.
“Come over. I’m at home. The one she blew up.”
He was still laughing when I disconnected.
I thought I could let her go, not realising how deep her talons ran. She was out there enjoying her life without my consent. That wasn't how my world worked. She had a debt to settle.
This time I was armed with knowledge and fully prepared.
This time she would understand what ownership meant.
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