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We are still driving, and I recognize the streets of my home as he crosses over the Western High-Speed Diameter. The bridge provides an impressive view of the entire city.

My city.

I recognize the shift immediately as he exits the highway several minutes later. They are gone. The Mocro have pulled out.

I know it in my bones even before I see a discrete patrol of Volk walking down a nearby street.

When we reach our neighborhood, my heart thunders, hope rising.

The compound is bustling.

Guards at the gate wave us through, men I know saluting me with surprised expressions. A runner takes off up the hill ahead of us.

By the time we reach the house, already under repair, Pyotr is standing on the drive, his shoulders bobbing up and down with deep breaths. It is the closest I have ever seen him to crying.

“Doch!” he shouts as I rush from the car, throwing myself into his embrace.

“Papa!” All of my anger, my shame, evaporates. At least for now, relief envelopes me like the embrace of this colossal man.

“Where have you been?!”

“I was about to ask you the same,Pakhan. You vanished.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

“Not of my own free will.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come. I will explain. You look tired. Hungry. Is that?—”

“Shakal,” I finish, waving my companion over.

Ciro salutes, barely able to hide his smile. Or his apprehension.

“Pakhan.”

“You kept her safe. Alive.Spasibo, Shakal.Brat.” Brother. Nothing in this world makes me happier than to hear him accept Ciro.

I cannot hide my smile as Pyotr grabs the nervous oaf into a tight hug, clapping him on the back. A small grunt of either surprise or an inability to breathe chuffs out of Ciro’s stunned, open mouth.

“She kept me alive just as often.”

“I have no doubt. Come. We must catch up quickly. There is much to be done.”

He leads toward another building, the offices that received the least amount of damage in the attack. Inside, staff members are hustling about, on the phone, cleaning.

In the conference room, Pyotr waves everyone else out, closing the door.

“I did not recognize half of the men outside, are they from other provinces?” I ask immediately, not waiting for him to settle. All the while, analyzing the notes on the walls, the maps, troop movements. They are planning something huge.

“Da. Even more from other clans.”

I spin, nailing him with a concerned glare. “What? But the other clans, their leaders?—”

“We know. The attack took us off guard, the council was planning our strategy in the event that the Mocro attacked us. At the time, we still did not know precisely who we were dealing with. Other leaders were in talks with a foreign power. I warned them not to hold court with an unknown entity.”

“We…met that unknown entity. His name is Adil Abas.”

Pyotr chokes on his drink. “What?!”