I drive home as dawn breaks, Lebedev's blood washed off but the weight of what I've done sitting on my shoulders.
Polina's awake when I get there. She's in the kitchen, bare feet on the tile, wearing a night shirt that hangs to mid-thigh. Her hair's a mess. She's never looked more beautiful.
"Hi." She smiles, but it fades when she sees my face. "What's wrong?"
I cross to her, cup her face in both hands. "Your father," I tell her quietly. "He's dead. You're safe now. No more threat.”
I watch her process this. Watch emotions flicker across her face too fast to name.
Then her face settles into an almost blank expression.
“Good,” she whispers. “That’s good.”
She pulls away gently, wrapping her arms around herself. “You should…get some rest. You must be exhausted."
She leaves the kitchen before I can respond.
I stand there alone, watching the space where she was, and wonder if I've made a terrible miscalculation.
Polina
My father has been dead for a week now, and I wonder if I should feel sad.
I do, but not because a man’s life ended.
Papa was a monster. He beat me. Sold me. Treated me like property for twenty-one years.
I pace the length of our bedroom.
No, I’m not mad he’s gone. I’m distraught because his death means the purpose of my marriage is gone too.
The marriage was about protection, but the threat has been eliminated.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room.
For seven days, I’ve waited for Dante to bring up the subject of divorce.
Maybe he's trying to figure out how to tell me gently. Maybe he doesn't want to hurt my feelings.
My phone rings, startling me out of my spiral. It’s an unknown number, and I almost don't answer. But curiosity wins out.
"Hello?"
"Polina." The voice is gruff but not unkind. “This is Gavril Volkov.”
Gavril Volkov? The Pakhan?!The Pakhan is calling me?
“H-how’d you get my number?”
There’s a long pause during which I realize I’m a total moron for asking. He’s the head of one of the largest criminal organizations in Chicago. Of course he can obtain my cellphone number.
Fortunately, he ignores my question.
“I called to tell you that you’re the sole inheritor of your father's estate. You get everything."
I blink. Everything? The house. His accounts. Investments. It's not an insignificant sum.
"You're a wealthy woman now, Polina."
