Page 164 of Stolen Empire

She doesn’t respond, but I see her hand relax on her knee.

The tension doesn’t leave her entirely, but it lessens.

She understands what I'm saying, and more importantly, she believes it.

We pass through a small village, its buildings clustered along the road like sleeping animals.

A few people move about despite the cold, bundled in heavy coats and scarves, but no one pays us any attention.

The SUVs are unmarked, generic enough to belong to any family traveling through the countryside.

I check the rearview mirror.

Gavriil is still behind us, maintaining distance but staying within sight.

"What can you tell me about my cousin?" Katya asks.

Her fingers drum a light rhythm on her knee, a nervous habit she probably doesn’t realize she’s developed.

"Well, he took control of the Morozov family when he was fifteen years old, shortly after your father died. Based on intel we know the family had enemies who saw weakness in a child leading them, and Artemy had to prove himself through a lot of bloodshed, some of it within his own family."

I navigate a curve in the road, the tires gripping the frozen asphalt.

"He lost territory. He lost men. He lost influence. But he held the core. This alliance would benefit him greatly."

"That sounds like you—all the bloodshed," she says, a faint edge entering her voice.

And while she might be right to some extent, I've never been in my life what Artemy Morozov is today.

I can’t help the slight smile that pulls at my mouth.

"He's not me. We're similar in some ways, but we operate from different philosophies. Still, if you prove you’re Lyovik's daughter, he'll accept you. But he'll also have expectations about how you carry that name."

"What kind of expectations?"

She turns to look at me fully now with serious eyes.

She looks a bit uncertain and frightened when I glance at her.

"That you act like a Morozova. That you carry yourself with the weight of that name. That you don’t embarrass the family through weakness or poor decisions." I pause, choosing my next words with care.

"But you already know how to do these things, whether you realize it or not. You've been surviving on your own for years, learning to read situations and people, learning to adapt. You know how to be strong when circumstances demand it. You'll be fine."

We turn off the main road onto a narrower path lined with skeletal trees on both sides.

The gravel crunches beneath the tires as we drive deeper into the countryside, away from civilization.

The landscape becomes more remote with each passing kilometer.

After approximately ten minutes of driving on this smaller road, we approach a gate flanked by two armed men.

Both of them watch our approach with sharp eyes.

One of them uses a walkie to radio in to someone.

This is the place.

I slow the SUV to a stop and lower the window.