Page 112 of Little Deer

“You’re outnumbered,” Nico growls at her, inching forward as well.

She gives him a sharp smile, one that has my terror only deepening. “You think I don’t have other insurance, Mr. Armani? Are you willing to risk the baby’s life on that?”

“Nico, please,” I beg. I look at her around Massimo. “Please, just give him to me. They’ll let you leave.”

She gives me a pitying smile. “Darling, I know you’re new to this, but they most certainly won’t. They want me dead. Well, for now.” She looks back at Rori. “I’m getting impatient, Aurora.”

Alonzo looks ready to blast her, and Rori yanks herself away from him and walks to stand next to the woman. Her body is rigid, but she doesn’t flinch when the woman turns the gun to point it at her.

“Who are you?” Pietro demands, voice dark, sharp.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” She looks at Rori with a bright smile, mirth filling her eyes. Gone is the cold killer, and now she looks exactly like Amara, warm and open. Rori stares at her, unsmiling. “Oh, now, don’t look at me like that,” she huffs. “Fine, do you want to be the one to tell them?”

“She’s my sister,” Amara finally blurts out.

I turn my head to stare at her. She’s staring at the woman behind the desk, longing and uncertainty clear on her face.

“What?” Lazaro barks, looking at her and then the other woman.

“This is the final girl?” Urso demands, shocked. “Actually, wait, I mean, I can see it. They look exactly alike.”

Some of the hostility lowers in the room as we all look at her. She beams back at us. “Surprise! When I pictured a family reunion, I have to say I was expecting a bit of a different reaction.” Then she pouts. “And here I am, helping, and you’re treating me like a criminal.”

“You’re holding my son and refusing to give him back, and acting like your sister, so fucking right we’re not going to trust you,” Massimo snaps.

“Put your guns down,” Amara orders. “She’s not going to hurt anyone. Are you?” She looks at the woman expectantly.

“What’s your name?” Aurelio demands, watching her still distrustfully.

She doesn’t answer that and lowers her gun, but my terror doesn’t dissipate. It’s still far too close to my son.

“What did you grow up with then?” Aurelio asks.

“Well, it depends on who you ask,” she shrugs. Soren lets out a gurgle at the movement, and she smiles. “I never liked babies, but this one’s pretty good,” she says to me. I stare back at her. She rolls her eyes and looks at the others. “Now that you know who I am, can we lower the guns?”

“Please,” Amara begs. “She’s not going to hurt anyone. She helped us! Please.”

“Not until I have her name to check her out,” Aurelio states firmly.

The woman rolls her eyes again. “How did you end up so wrapped up in such an untrusting group?” Rori just shrugs, but she doesn’t smile or say another word. She looks back at Aurelio. “The name on my birth certificate, well, the fake one since you all have my original, is Tatiana Alekseeva.”

“The daughter of one of the Pakhans in Russia?” Pietro demands.

She—Tatiana—nods, but I see the quick flash in her eyes. The fury. My heart pounds. “I’m afraid Daddy dearest isn’t a fan of me being here, however. After all, I don’t identify as Italian now, do I?”

“How the fuck did you end up with him?” Alessio demands, frowning. “Aleskeev is all about purity in the Russian bloodline.”

She shrugs. “He made the exception as a favor to Ivan Morozov. Apparently, they grew up together and were great friends.” She glances over at Zeno, who is discreetly typing on his phone. “Have your team confirmed my story?”

He looks at her unrepentantly. “She’s clear,” he finally says, looking back at his father. Kida is tucked under his arm, but she’s watching Tatiana carefully.

“Guns down,” Pietro orders. Slowly, they lower.

I carefully step around Massimo, holding out my arms for my son. “Please.”

Tatiana sets the gun on the desk, aimed away from me, and holds out her arm with Soren in it. I snatch him from her, holding him tight to my chest as relief floods me, almost sending me to my knees. Massimo catches me, holding me tight. “He’s alright,cerbiatta,” he murmurs.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I couldn’t risk being shot before I could share my side,” Tatiana explains.