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“It contained nineteen arrows. That’s too much, Ivan.”

Nikolai laughed, then winced when Sloane pressed an ice pack harder against the swelling near his temple.

“Listen, this is what the records prove,” Kit began. “Mikhail paid to have your father removed. Yuri chose the bomb, killed both your parents, and took the territory afterward. Years later, Yuri used Sokolov’s hidden financial system again when he ordered Mila’s murder. After Yuri died, Dmitry inherited his vendetta against you.”

She flicked to another screen.

My mother’s photograph appeared beside Arsen’s recorded statement.

“And Arsen’s testimony proves Levon ordered the operation intended to take Alessia when she was fifteen. Her mother died stopping it.”

“So no one can make this disappear now?” I asked.

“No,” Ivan said. “We made three authenticated duplicates. One is held by us, one by your independent trustee, and one is already with the federal prosecutor handling the Orlov case.”

Kit glanced toward Sergei. “You should know that Mikhail Orlov was found dead in his cell before dawn.”

The room went quiet.

“The preliminary report calls it a heart attack,” Ivan continued for her. “The camera outside his tier conveniently lost eleven minutes of footage.”

Sergei’s expression didn’t change, but I saw his jawline tick. He met his brothers’ eyes each in turn and then nodded just the slightest bit.

I didn’t ask any questions, but I didn’t need to.

The Morozovs had ensured Mikhail paid the price for what he’d done.

Good.

“And Sokolov?” I asked, changing the topic of conversation.

“He’s going to be in prison for a very long time,” Maxim answered. “He’s alive, for now, but he’s pissed a lot of people off.”

“What happens to the Petrosyans?” Amy asked.

Matteo answered from near the fireplace. “Without Levon, his American crews are dividing. Some are running. Others are offering names and weapons in exchange for protection from the Bellandis.”

“Dmitry’s organization?” Maxim asked.

“Dmitry had no recognized heir,” Ivan said. “The Veles archive identified his senior lieutenants, weapons stores, and operating accounts. By the time word of his death spread, half his crews were running. The others had begun tearing the organization apart from the inside out.”

Sergei said nothing. He only reached beneath the table and closed his hand around mine.

“And the ports?” I asked.

“What was yours remains yours,” Giulia said from the screen.

Raffaele remained on the screen after the operational briefing ended. The others understood without being told. Maxim moved the rest of the family and Matteo toward the adjoining room, and Sergei started to follow. I caught his hand with mine.

“Stay with me.”

He took the chair beside me without a word.

For several seconds, my father and I looked at each other across an ocean. His gaze moved over the fading marks around my throat and the cut across my lip.

“Are you sure that you’re not hurt?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m okay.”