The room feels colder.
Like the walls just shifted closer.
Sergei leans in just slightly, emphasis sharpening his words.
“These documents are what stop him from turning your father into a footnote.” He shakes his head. “And what stops him from claiming total legitimacy.”
I finally look down at the stack.
My father’s life.
Compressed into paper.
Legal language. Inked signatures. Proof of a world I was born into but never fully allowed to touch.
Sergei’s voice softens just a fraction—but not much.
“If you keep them safe,” he says, “then no matter what Anton does…you retain undeniable authority.”
His gaze locks onto mine.
“Not emotional authority, but legal, structural, absolute.”
My fingers curl slightly at my sides again.
Because I understand what he’s really saying now.
This isn’t just protection.
This is power.
Sergei straightens.
“Right now,” he says quietly, “you are the only one standing between Anton Petrov and total control.”
He closes the suitcase.
The click is final.
Like a door locking somewhere far away that I can’t open again.
I turn immediately to Timofey.
“I want you to find him a safe house,” I say. “Somewhere secure. Somewhere off-grid. Keep him safe until this settles.”
Sergei shakes his head before Timofey even responds.
“No.”
Sharp. Immediate.
He doesn’t even let the suggestion land.
“I cannot stay in one place long enough for protection to matter,” he says. “Anton’s men are already searching for me. And if I remain here, I will only put the Rusnak family at risk.”
Timofey doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t challenge.
