Page 16

SANDY

I should be resting. That’s the line Talia has been feeding me since breakfast. Rest, sis.

Drink tea. Let the lawyers do their jobs.

But she should know better by now. I’m not built for passivity.

Not when Dimitri is still locked up behind bars, and not when I learned the truth is buried in files no one else is willing to dig through.

The estate's library has become my war room.

Folders and papers surrounded me like landmines, each waiting to detonate under the right pair of eyes.

I am sitting cross-legged on the rug, a forgotten cup of cold coffee at my side, and Lev's decrypted spreadsheet pulled up on the laptop screen above me.

My back aches from hours of hunching over documents.

Still, the discomfort is nothing compared to what Dimitri must be feeling.

I turn another page in a Petrov shell contract. I feel that low thrum of anticipation begin to burn in my belly. It is faint but familiar. I’m close to something. I can feel it.

Talia's voice cuts through the silence behind me.

“You're nesting in a crime scene,” she huffs, stepping into the room with a soft thud of bare feet on hardwood. She is wearing one of Aleksandr's oversized sweatshirts and carrying a bowl of fruit like a peace offering.

“I'm working,” I insist without looking up. “And you're interrupting.”

She drops onto the floor beside me and sets the bowl between us. “You've had six hours of sleep in the past two days. That's not working. That's spiraling.”

I finally look at her. “You ever try resting when the person you love is locked in a concrete cage for a crime he didn't commit?”

Her eyes soften. “You think I don't get it? I lived through this too. With Aleksandr. With the kids. I know what it feels like to carry panic around in your bloodstream.”

“Then stop treating me like I'm fragile.”

She sighs and picks a slice of pear from the bowl. “I'm not. I'm treating you like my sister. Who also happens to be pregnant and might be pushing herself too damn hard.”

“I'm fine,” I mutter, sliding another folder onto my lap.

“You're lying,” she replies calmly. “And you suck at it.”

I let out a slow breath and slump back against the wall. “He's running out of time. Morozov already tried to have him killed twice. Peter's doing everything he can, but we both know the court system isn't built for men like Dimitri. It's built to keep them buried.”

Talia leans forward, resting her chin on her knees. “So, what are we doing here? Playing detective until something gives?”

“No.” I reach for the flash drive on the desk and hold it between us. “I found something. A transfer Petrov routed through a logistics shell tied to a holding company in Belize. There's a matching entry in the estate ledger with a forged authorization from someone who doesn't even exist.”

Her brow lifts. “You're saying you have proof that Petrov paid off the witness.”

“I'm saying I have a thread,” I correct. “And if we pull hard enough, the whole damn tapestry might unravel.”

Talia doesn’t smile, but her eyes brighten with pride, resolve, or something more complicated than either. “You always did have a thing for finding trouble.”

I give her a tired smirk. “And you always had a thing for dragging me out of it.”

“I still do. But this time, I think I'll just sit back and watch you burn the place down.”

Her words settle over me like a warm blanket. We didn't come from love. We came from loss and chaos and a dozen foster homes with locks on the fridge and hands that reached for us in the dark. But somehow, we became family. We clung to each other through every storm. And this is no different.

I reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Remember that night at the Morgans’ house? When I found those bank statements in his desk?”

Talia's face softens with recognition. “You mean when you nearly got us kicked out of the only decent placement we'd had in years because you were convinced Mr. Morgan was embezzling from his company?”

“He was embezzling,” I insist. “The numbers didn't add up.”

“And you were seventeen with a hero complex and too much time on your hands.” Talia shakes her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. “But yes, I remember. I also remember staying up all night with you, helping you put those papers back in perfect order, so he'd never know we'd seen them.”

“You were so mad at me,” I chuckle.

“I was terrified,” she corrects, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Not of getting caught. Of losing you. I was afraid they'd separate us if we got kicked out.”

“But you still helped me,” I say softly.

“Of course I did. You’re my sister.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, a familiar gesture between us. “Even when you're being stubborn and reckless and completely infuriating, I'll always help you.”

A lump forms in my throat. “I never thanked you. For all the times you covered for me.”

Talia shrugs, but I can see the emotion swimming in her eyes. “You never had to. That's what family is.”

She picks up one of the folders and flips it open. “Tell me what I'm looking at,” she says.

I blink. “I thought you wanted me to rest.”

She shrugs. “I changed my mind. You want to dig? We dig. This baby is going to know their father, not some prison visitation room version of him.”

A quiet smile spreads across my lips. I lean beside her, pointing to the transaction log. “Right there. Valkyr Logistics. It's a shell. Look at the route. Follow it through the third entry. See that offshore jump? That account is tied to a Geneva firm that's under investigation for laundering.”

Talia whistles low. “Damn. When did you get so good at this?”

“I've always been this good,” I sniff. “You just never paid attention.”

“No, I noticed.” Her voice was suddenly serious. “I always knew you were the smart one.”

“Maybe,” I nudge her shoulder. “But look where we ended up anyway. Tangled up with Russian men who attract trouble like magnets.”

Talia’s laughter rings out, warm and loud. “Not exactly what our social worker had in mind for our futures, huh?”

“God no. Poor Mrs. Hendricks would have a heart attack.”

Talia's eyes crinkle at the corners. “Remember how she used to lecture us about finding nice, stable men with boring jobs? Accountants and dentists, she'd say.”

“Instead, we got a Bratva pakhan and his second-in-command.” I shake my head, the absurdity of our lives not lost on me.

Talia's face softens. “Sometimes I look at Aleksandr with the kids, or the way you've bloomed since meeting Dimitri, and I think maybe this is exactly where we were always heading.”

We work silently, passing files back and forth, our fingers stained with ink and highlighter. Outside the window, the trees rustle in the late afternoon breeze. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the faint clink of silverware from the kitchen staff preparing dinner.

The world goes on. But in this room, time bends around us. We are just two women piecing together the proof that can take down a corrupt lawyer, a dirty judge, and the man who thinks he can destroy our family and walk away untouched.

“So, what exactly is the plan here?” Talia asks, breaking the comfortable silence. “Once we have everything connected?”

I rub my tired eyes. “Peter takes it to the judge and gets the case thrown out. Dimitri walks free.”

“And Petrov?”

My jaw clenches. “He answers for what he's done.”

She nods slowly. “Aleksandr will want blood.”

“He might have to settle for justice instead.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “That's the deal Dimitri made when we got together. Less blood and violence. No more vengeance. No more bodies in the river.”

“It's strange,” Talia muses, leaning back on her hands. “How loving someone can change you. Make you want to be better.”

“Is that what happened with you and Aleksandr?”

She smiles with a soft, private expression. “He was already trying to change for Sasha and Maxim. But yes, I think we saved each other in a way.”

I think about Dimitri's face the first time he told me he loved me. A man who spent his life believing love was a weakness suddenly opened himself to the ultimate vulnerability.

“Dimitri told me once that he was afraid of me,” I say quietly.

Talia raises an eyebrow. “Of you? All five-foot-five of you?”

“Not physically.” I trace the edge of a document absently. “He said I was the first person who made him afraid of dying. Because before me, he didn't care if he lived or died. Now he has something to lose.”

Talia's eyes soften. “That's how I know he's the one for you, sis. He sees you clearly. All of you. Not just the prickly, stubborn exterior, but everything underneath.”

“Like you do.” I let out a deep breath. “I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time when you first met Aleksandr,” I whisper. “But given the circumstances…”

Talia laughs. “You were awful. You interrogated the poor man like he was on trial for murder.”

“I was protecting you!”

“You accused him of being a mafia hitman.”

“Well, I wasn’t that far off,” I tease, tossing a paper clip at her. “Can you blame me for being protective?”

“No,” she smirks. “Just like I can't blame Aleksandr for being worried when you got involved with his brother.”

This was news to me. “Aleksandr was worried about Dimitri and me?”

“ Concerned is the word he used. He knows how much Dimitri has lost. How much pain he's carried.” Talia meets my eyes. “He was afraid you might run when things got complicated. That you wouldn't truly understand the life.”

“And now?”

“Now he knows better.” She smiles.

“We protect what's ours,” I say quietly.

“Always have.” Talia nods. “Which is why I know we're going to get Dimitri out. Because you've claimed him as yours, and God help anyone who tries to take what belongs to Sandy Davis.”

I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes and blink them away. Pregnancy hormones are making me embarrassingly emotional these days.

Talia leans back and exhales. “You know what I think?”

I look up from the laptop. “Do I want to know?”

She grins. “I think Dimitri's in a hell of a lot more danger from you than from Morozov.”

“Good. He should be scared.”

“They all should be,” Talia agrees. “The men who took him have no idea what they've unleashed.”

I can’t help but smile at that. Talia has always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. Has seen strength in me when all I felt was fear. Looking at the mountain of evidence we accumulated, I feel that strength flowing through me like a current.

I save the files and close the laptop. My body is stiff, my lower back aches, and my eyes are dry from staring at the screen for hours. But I feel like I can breathe for the first time in days.

I found something real. And tomorrow, I'll give it to Peter. Just one more nail in the coffin of the man who framed Dimitri.

As we walk out of the library together, Talia hooks her arm through mine. “You know what's funny?”

“What?”

“After all those years of us against the world, we somehow found men who don't try to come between us,” Talia grins.

“We got lucky,” I admit.

“No.” Talia stops in the hallway, turning to face me. “Luck had nothing to do with it. We chose well because we know what matters. Because we learned the hard way what family really means.”

I pull her into a hug, feeling the familiar curve of her shoulder under my cheek. I breathe in her scent, warm and sweet. She is my sister, my constant, the only person who never left me.

She gives my arm a quick squeeze. “Let's finish this.”

And just like that, we walk back into the fire together. Just as we always have and always will.