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“I know we have spoken about this often over the years,” I tell him. “But this time of year always makes me think about my mother. Perhaps today, we should toast to her.”
Vasily’s fingers tighten around his glass, but his face remains unchanged. “Yes, I understand what you mean. I often think of her too. My dear sister, it is such a shame that her life was cut so tragically short.”
He disregards my proposal for a toast, opting to empty his glass without any kind words for my mother.
“I know you told me you would never stop looking.” I meet his gaze. “But have you found any new leads since the last we spoke on this subject?”
He studies me, never wavering in his expression. But in his eyes, there is an undercurrent of irritation he can’t hide. And I wonder if I never chose to see it before, or if I simply contributed it to the fact that my relentless pursuit for the truth was merely an annoyance.
“I have no new leads,” he says finally. “But I do believe that perhaps it is time for you to let this go, Levka.”
My hand curls into a fist at my side as I shake my head in refusal. “The score must be settled. You said so yourself.”
“It’s an idealistic notion,” he says. “But sometimes, the best thing we can do is simply move forward.”
It occurs to me that he has never cared to settle the score. And now, I believe I understand why. After all these years of doing his bidding. After dedicating half of my life to being his loyal servant. Cleaning up his fucking messes and doing his dirty work. And this is what he has to say to me?
“Was there a reason you called me here this morning?” I force my voice to remain neutral.
“I’m just waiting for Andrei. Then I will explain.”
He glances at the clock on the wall, and then removes his phone to check something. It’s a small gesture, but it sets off something inside me. I can’t explain the feeling of dread that lingers deep in my gut, but I’m starting to piece it together.
“Wait here,” Vasily orders. “I need to make a phone call.”
He disappears around the corner, and I pick up my phone with the intention of calling Kat. Something tells me I need to check on her. But before I even get that far, I notice a text from Pasha. He explains that he ran to the store, but he’ll be back shortly. It was sent five minutes ago.
A firestorm of questions ignites my suspicions. Where the fuck is Andrei? He’s never this late. It isn’t like Vasily to be so patient with his time. And why the fuck did Pasha leave Kat alone? I’m not thinking clearly when I stumble out the door and into my car. But it feels like a trap. It’s a feeling I can’t ignore.
My fingers tremble as I jam the key into the ignition. There’s no way they could know about Kat. No fucking way. But as I’m telling myself that, I notice the muddy footprint Andrei left behind. He drove my car. I never gave it a second thought, but is it possible that he found something?
No, he’s too stupid for that. I keep telling myself I’m just being paranoid as I jam the car into gear and take off down the street, fumbling with my phone as I try to dial Pasha. He doesn’t answer. I curse under my breath and then try Kat, but again, I get no answer.
The car accelerates, blowing through a stop sign I didn’t even see. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else fucking matters. My fingers curl around the steering wheel, and I try to focus as I navigate the streets back to the house. I’m trying to dial Alexei when my phone rings, and Vasily’s name flashes across the screen.
I tap the button to ignore it, and in my frustration, the phone slips from my grasp and flies onto the floor beneath the passenger seat.
Motherfucking fuck.
I kick up the speed, laser-focused on the streets. I have to get home. It’s the only thing I can think of. And when I do, they are going to be all right. It won’t be like last time. I won’t be too late.
But even as I swallow my own assurances, I can picture my mother’s face. Her dead gaze has haunted me for so many years. I wasn’t there for her. I didn’t save her. And now I’m failing Kat and Josh all over again. I can feel it in my soul. My heart is already slowing to a crawl, prepared to die an agonizing death at a loss I won’t ever recover from.
26
Kat
Twenty minutes pass, then thirty. Josh is bathed and dressed and playing with the toys in his borrowed room.
