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She doesn’t ask why. She reads it to me, and I’m dialing before she’s finished saying goodbye.

Timur picks up in a car. I can hear the engine straining.

“Rusakov’s sending men to the Port District,” I tell him. “Belov’s there already. Maximov docks.”

“I know,” Timur says grimly. “We’re ten minutes out. Who the fuck is this?”

“Theo Nevolin.”

There’s a pause while he presumably connects the dots.

“Garick’s on his way. We’ve got it.” Another pause. “Are you with one of the Maximova’s now?”

My jaw clenches. “Yes,” I say. “Evaria, I don’t know where the others are.”

“Rusakov’s going after the whole house. You should probably figure out a way to keep her out, or stay at the house.”

He hangs up.

I put the shovel in the back of the truck. Then I walk up to the cheerful yellow door and knock.

Evaria opens it. She’s still smiling. When she sees my face, the smile fades.

“What is it?”

Every day. The truth, even when it’s ugly.

“Rusakov just tried to hire me,” I say. “To go to your father’s docks tonight with Belov.”

The color drains from her face. “Arina...”

“Garick’s on his way there now. Timur’s with him.”

Her hand comes to her chest and rests there for a moment while she processes what I’ve told her.“I’m taking you home,” I say. “And then I’m sitting outside your father’s house until morning.”

She stares at me. The street light is behind me, and her face is lit gold from the kitchen. Her eyes are dark and stormy. Then she picks up her bag, says goodnight to Bernadette, and walks to her car without another word.

EVARIA

My first thought is Arina.

My second is all four of them, my sisters, standing in a row at Papa’s grave with the rain coming down. Rusakov’s man watching from beyond the gates, deciding which of us is easiest to break.

I call Arina from the car. It rings out. I call again. Voicemail.

Hi, it’s Arina. Leave a message.

I hang up and call Zhenya.

“Are you home?” I ask, before she can say hello.

“Where else would I be?” A pause. “What’s happened?”

“Is everyone there?”

“Galana’s making blini. Milana’s on the floor painting her toenails and complaining about her life. Arina went out to dinner.” Another pause, longer this time. “Eva. What is it?”

In my rearview mirror, Theo’s headlights sit steady behind me. He’s so close I can see his outline through the windshield. His big hands on the wheel. His eyes on the road and on me.