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Instead, they twist and tangle in my mind, darker now, sharper around the edges.
I hear her laugh, but it feels sinister now.
I remember her smile, but it’s warped.
A hand brushes my arm, and my eyes shoot open.
Nikolai.
His face is close to mine, his expression hard, but also laced with something unfamiliar. Concern, perhaps. My brother doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me, his head tilting slightly as though he’s trying to assess whether I’ll completely break down right here and now, with Otets present.
I won’t.
But now, I doubt whether it’s because of the fact that I’m stronger than this, or whether I’ve become too numb to feel anything any more.
“She’s alive.” Nikolai says, his voice low enough so only I can hear it. “Focus on that, Mikhail, the girl. The sister. She’s what matters right now.”
I nod once, but my stomach churns.
A sister.
A little sister out there who doesn’t even know who we are, or what we are.
I wonder what she’s like.
I wonder what she looks like.
Does she even know that she’s part Russian, and part Italian too?
I doubt it.
After everything that has happened…there’s no way that she knows.
Our father’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and commanding.
“We’ll handle this, Mikhail. My daughter belongs with us, and we will bring her back.”
I glance over at him, feeling my chest tightening all over again.
It’s been days now since he’s revealed these buried secrets, but the weight of everything only presses harder on me, and I find myself speaking without thinking.
“You mean like how Chiara belongs with us?”
The room goes silent.
He looks at me, his expression hardening at once.
This is the most I’ve spoken to him in the three days that I’ve been back, but I don’t care. He shouldn’t have held onto these secrets for so long, not when he expects Nikolai and I to take over as Pakhans one day.
“Careful, Mikhail.”
He tells me, his tone cold.
I don’t back down. Not this time.
“Chiara is ours to keep.” I say, my voice firm. “And if you think that girl out there—our sister—is going to forgive you for all of this, you’re wrong. Who knows what she’s been suffering under the hand of her uncle, the very same man who murdered her mother?”
Our father simply stares at me, his jaw clenching.