And now…
My hands shake as I carry a stack to the couch, weighed down by years of unread entries. When I was a child, Dimitri warned me not to touch his journals. They were the only bit of privacy he ever asked for. I never questioned the instruction, never even considered violating that trust.
After all, he’d devoted the rest of his existence to my grudge, my mission. Giving him this one thing didn’t seem like a sacrifice at all.
As Max drops the remaining books on the table, I know these weren’t the only things Dimitri kept hidden. Or lied about.
Each journal has a date range scribbled on the front cover in Dimitri’s precise hand. The oldest one goes back seventeen years. Almost three years before my mother died…before he ever met me.
Why would he?—
Max slides a journal off my lap and waits, holding the tome in his hand. I glance at the dates. The most recent addition.
Unable to speak, I nod.
Max settles in beside me, opens the cover, and starts to read.
That leaves me with a decision. Should I choose the one that covers the night Mom died or the one from seventeen years ago?
Fingers trembling, I grab the journal from that fateful summer.
“It’s just like I thought.” Max continues leafing through pages. “Dimitri’s the one who gave Detective Colvin that anonymous tip. He also sent info connecting the library to the reopened cold case of Chaos Island. Which he also teased evidence about to get Colvin to dig into things. He muddied the waters and set up Sasha as a traitor, knowing we’d kill him.”
Sasha.
My heart sinks as I flip open my own journal, afraid of what I might find.
“Shit.” Max scrubs a hand down his face, turning a shade paler. “The fucker killed MJ, Roman’s nephew.”
Dimitri murdered my cousin.
Oh my god.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds, summoning a hazy image of the young man everyone in the family loved and respected.
“Anything else?” As if that isn’t already bad enough, but I need to know everything.
When I peer at Max again, the numbness settling across his features mirrors my own hollowness.
“Well, not to poke a wound, but he also gloats about how he made you think this was all your idea. That he’s good at giving gentle suggestions until you take the bait and think it’s your plan, or he just does what he wants behind your back.” He offers me the journal so I can see the proof for myself.
I push it aside. I don’t need to confirm what I already know is true.
Besides, I have my own passage to read to him. Each word shatters my heart a little more. “‘I’m back from the island. Had the best luck.’” My voice wobbles. “‘I grabbed Roman’s daughter and brought her home with me. Roman will never heal from the wound of losing both his wife and daughter in the same night. She’ll become my perfect weapon if I raise her right.’”
The poison seeps through every word.
I thought I knew myself, my purpose. Thought I was choosing my own path.
Max simply stares, his expression pinched with pity and resignation.
I never chose my path or led anyone else.
According to Dimitri’s own admissions, I was obeying him, playing the role he built me for.
To be a weapon aimed at my own father’s heart.
Max
