Page 9

Where are you?

Sandy, please tell me you didn't go out alone.

I'm calling Lev if you don't answer in five minutes.

My fingers tremble as I type a reply. I'm fine. Needed air. Coming home now.

It isn’t the first lie I’ve told my sister, and I hate that it comes so easily now. But it won’t be the last until Dimitri is home, alive and free.

This time, though, the lie comes with something real. Something that matters. I have proof and photos of Petrov meeting with Morozov’s enforcer. It isn’t the smoking gun we need, but it’s a thread. And threads, when pulled with enough pressure, can unravel entire tapestries of deceit.

I start the car with shaky hands, checking the rearview mirror compulsively as I pull away from the curb. Every shadow seems to hold a threat. Every passing vehicle is potentially filled with Morozov's men. The city I once found so charming now feels like a labyrinth of dangers.

The drive back to the estate takes thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of jumping at every honking horn and flash of headlights. When I reach the gates, my shirt is damp despite the cool breeze.

The same guard waves me through, still oblivious to what I've been doing. As I park in the garage, I notice Lev's car is there, too. That's not good. If he’s here, it means Talia called him after all.

I tuck the camera into my bag, take a deep breath, and prepare for the confrontation that awaits me inside.

The grand foyer is lit, and voices drift from the study.

Talia's is high with worry, and Lev's is deep and measured.

I consider sneaking upstairs, but they'll only follow. It's better to face them now.

“There you are.” Talia's voice cuts through the hall as I step inside. She stands at the base of the staircase, arms crossed, face pale with fear and anger. “Do you have any idea?—”

“I'm sorry,” I say, meaning it. Sorry for the worry, if not for the action itself. “I needed to clear my head.”

“Clear your head?” She moves toward me, close enough that I can see tears shimmering in her eyes. “You disappeared without a word! With everything that's happening how could you be so thoughtless?”

Lev appears behind her, his massive frame filling the doorway to the library. His face, usually a mask of calm calculation, shows something I rarely see there. Genuine concern.

“Sandy,” he huffs. “We were worried.”

Guilt slices through me. They're my family, and they’re hurting too. But I can’t tell them what I did until I know what the photos show.

“I'm sorry,” I repeat, gripping my bag tighter. “It won't happen again.”

“Where did you go?” Talia demands, wiping angrily at a tear that escaped. “And don't say ‘for a drive,’ because I know that look. That's the look you always give me when you’re hiding something.”

For a moment, I consider coming clean and showing them the photos, revealing everything. But something holds me back. Maybe instinct, maybe caution. I need to see what I have first to be sure.

“I went to my apartment,” I lie, the words bitter on my tongue. “I left some things there...some clothes and stuff. I thought it might help to have them.”

Talia's expression softens slightly. “You should have told me. I would have gone with you. It’s not safe for you to be out there alone.”

“I didn't want to bother you. You've been dealing with so much already.”

Lev's eyes narrow as he studies me with the same intensity he applies to business negotiations and security threats. I meet his gaze steadily, praying he can’t see through me as easily as Dimitri.

After a long moment, he nods. “Next time, tell someone where you're going. I have no doubt Morozov hasn’t forgotten about you.”

The bulk of the camera in my bag seems to increase tenfold. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Talia steps forward, wrapping me in a hug that feels like forgiveness I don’t deserve. “Go rest,” she murmurs. “You look exhausted.”

I hug her back, fighting the urge to confess everything. Later , I tell myself, when I have something concrete to give them. This isn’t just surveillance anymore. I’m in it deeper than I meant to go, but I have the photos and the evidence.

Upstairs in my room, I lock the door and pull out the camera with trembling hands. The photos load onto my laptop one by one, each a potential key to freeing Dimitri. In most photos, the quality is decent despite the low light and distance. Petrov's face is clear. Kiril's, too.

I zoom in on the slim black package. What’s in it? Money? Documents? The answer to why Dimitri is really in prison?

I look at Petrov's smug face and Kiril's dead eyes. These men have taken Dimitri from me. Framed him and locked him away so men like Kiril could get to him anytime.

I’m not turning back. Not now. Not ever.

Outside my window, lightning splits the sky. One bright flash illuminates the estate grounds before plunging back into darkness. Thunder follows, a low rumble like distant artillery mimicking the storm brewing inside me.

I will find the truth and free Dimitri. And I will keep our child safe. God help anyone who stands in my way.