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“And tonight Rusakov offered you work against our family.”

Galana’s spatula goes still. Milana stops spooning jam.

Theo puts his fork down, and looks at Zhenya across the table, steady and unhurried.

“Yes,” he says.

“How do we know you said no?”

“Zhenya,” I say sharply.

“It’s a fair question, Eva.”

“It is,” Theo says, before I can argue. He turns his phone over and slides it across the table to her. “Call log. Gleb Morozov at seven fifteen. Four minutes. Then Kira, my sister. Then Timur Lazovski.” He doesn’t look away from her. “Ask Timur if you want. He’ll tell you I called him before he called you.”

Zhenya looks at the phone for a long moment. She doesn’t touch it.

Then she slides it back across the table.

“I’m going to find out everything about you,” she says.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“And if you hurt her...”

“Then you’ll find out where I live,” Theo says calmly. “I imagine you already know.”

Zhenya’s mouth twitches. It’s tiny. It’s almost nothing. But I’ve known Zhenya Maximova my whole life, and I’ve seen that twitch maybe five times. She picks up her fork.

Milana leans across the table toward me and stage-whispers, “He’s not so bad. I like him.”

I don’t dare look at Theo. I look at my plate instead and feel the heat of him beside me, the brush of his arm against my sleeve when he reaches for the sour cream. He’s careful. He takes up as little space as a man that size possibly can, like he’s trying not to break anything in Papa’s kitchen.

His phone rings at twenty to eleven.

The whole room goes silent. Even Milana.

Theo looks at the screen. “Timur,” he says, and answers it. “Yes.”

He listens. His face doesn’t change at all, and somehow, that’s the worst part. I find myself holding my breath. Under the table, I’ve got Galana’s hand in mine, and I don’t remember taking it.

“Is she hurt?” he asks.

My heart stops.

He listens. Then he looks straight at me, and something in his face eases very slightly. “Okay. Tell him I owe him.”

He hangs up.

“Arina’s fine,” he says, and the whole table breathes out at once. “She’s not hurt. She’s with Garick. He’s taking her back to his place tonight, because Rusakov will be watching this house.”

“Garick’s?” Milana squeaks.

Zhenya kicks her under the table.

“What happened?” I ask.

Theo looks at me. I watch him decide. I watch him remember what I asked him for in his office: the truth, even when it’s ugly.