Page 141 of Nemesis

Pain lances my forehead.

I push the grief down. I can’t let it seep out from the neat package I’ve wrapped it in.

“I’m sorry,” I say, twisting to look up at him. “I know this is the last place you want to be right now.”

“It’s okay,” he says, sitting down at my shitty table. “I know we’re making progress, being here. What you’ve managed to do, allying us with Solokov and Morozov, was beyond my wildest dreams. Getting him back—it’s not a suicide mission anymore. I just…” he sighs, gazing off somewhere far away. “I can’t stop imagining my son in pain. Or worse.”

“Me neither,” I admit, rising to my feet and walking over. “I’m going to get him back, Alex. Even if I have to wring out every last connection we have to make it happen. I’ll sell whatever’s left of my soul to make this family whole again.”

The promise feels like a mockery, given that our family will never be whole ever again. Still, his eyes shift up to mine, watering with emotion. Then his arms extend. For the first time since his death, I’m wrapped in a tight hug. I don’t let myself sink into the embrace, worried I’d never find a way to stack myself back together.

“You ready to head out?”

I sigh, pulling back. “Just about.”

I walk over to the box peeking out beneath my stale bedding. I dig through old photos and random notebooks, finding the satin ribbons lying beneath. The old pair of pointe shoes looks worse for wear. Scuffs from the stage coat the soft pink hue, and a crimson stain splatters along the side from an old blister that bled through the fabric.

I grasp the object like a childish memento, the way a kid pulls a teddy bear to their chest.

A lifeline to someone I used to be.

This time, when I walk into the Solokov Industries building with Uncle Alex by my side, Mikhail Solokov’s security doesn’t try to stop me. The Pakhan put us up in his luxury hotel for the duration of our stay, which is conveniently just a few blocks away from his offices. Alex was hesitant to accept the offer, but I insisted, seeing it for what it was.

A gesture of trust between allies.

Mikhail is a shrewd man. Not accepting it would’ve been a message in itself, and I’m not in any position to find new allies.

When the elevator doors close, Alex angles his head my way. “Nik reached out. Says he has something new for us.”

I hear the unspoken question. How much information are we sharing with the Solokov Syndicate?

My head tilts as I consider. Our deal hinges on the Solokov Bratva believing our syndicate is functional. Unfortunately, half of our remaining men are one breath from mutiny against my leadership, and the other half are only coming around in the wake of my new bargain.

“We’ll have the call in the office,” I answer under my breath. “He will vocally defer to my judgment.”

“Got it,” Alex says, texting away.

When the doors open with a piercing ding, a crowded room buzzes to life around us, complete with a squealing child tugging on the pants leg of their head of security. Cass walks by, scooping her giggling kid into her arms and offering me a friendly wave. Mikhail’s inner circle fills the room in various discussions, with the Pakhan himself sitting tall behind his desk.

Alex looks up from his phone beside me, taking in the chaotic scene.

“Not what you expected?” I murmur.

“Not at all.”

“Ms. Siderov. Thank you for joining us. We were about to discuss travel arrangements for the hit teams,” Solokov says. The room settles at his voice.

“Excellent,” I reply. “This is Alex Siderov, our head of operations. I assume you two know of each other?”

“Indeed,” the Pakhan says, giving him a once-over. “The Butcher. It’s an honor.”

I raise my brows towards the man beside me. “Been holding out on me, Uncle Alex?”

He waves passively. “A title from my youth.”

Alex’s phone rings, severing the rather interesting round of introductions. He hands the device to me. Even mid-conversation, Solokov watches from the corner of his eye.

“Yes?” I say, answering the call.