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“Deserve?” Alexander scoffs. “This isn’t about what anyone deserves, my old friend. It’s about power. Control. Money.” His expression is heartless as he narrows his eyes. “It always has been.”
They’re not arguing over Mercy; they’re arguing about the past.
“Enough.” Nikolai takes the phone back. “Alexander, we’ll find out who your buyer is, and we’ll end it. You won’t be able to get away with this. Not with two families hunting you down.”
“Is that a threat?” Alexander sneers.
“I don’t make threats,” Nikolai replies coldly. “I keep promises.”
The screen jumps slightly as Alexander adjusts the phone on a stand. He sits down in a comfortable chair in what looks to be another room. His current surroundings have a deceptively cozy atmosphere, with a roaring fireplace and wooden bookshelves lining the walls. He reaches for a speaker and flicks it, and Mercy’s whimpers become audible in the background. He smiles, knowing that we can also hear it.
“Maybe it will take decades for you to find me.” Alexander relaxes in a plush armchair. “But it won’t help her.”
The call ends abruptly, and I can barely breathe. Like a knife, guilt twists in my gut as I think of how my selfish actions have led us here. As much as I want to wallow in self-pity and regret, we can’t waste time Mercy doesn’t have. But I can’t shake theimage of her bruised face and tear-filled eyes staring at me through the screen. That image will always haunt my memory, but there’s no time for regret—only action.
“Do you have it?” Zakhar asks Nikolai.
“Yes.” He holds up the phone with a screenshot of Mercy.
“You recorded it?” My eyes widen in shock. “You shouldn’t have done that.” I try to grab the phone, but my father stops me.
“Vito must see and hear what Alexander has done,” Zakhar explains. “Alexander has confessed to acting alone, not under Nikolai’s orders. It proves that it wasn’t Nikolai’s plan all along. That video will keep the Lanzzare from taking this out on the Starukhin.”
The room feels colder, as if the darkness outside has seeped into every corner. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that runs down my spine.
“Eden,” Nikolai murmurs, stepping closer and touching my shoulder. “I promise we’ll find her before it’s too late.”
“I should do something,” I reply. “You saw Mercy. She was crying, Nikolai. I’ve never seen her cry before.” My voice breaks, and I feel the hot sting of tears well up in my throat, making it difficult to swallow or speak.
“Eden, listen to me.” Nikolai’s voice is firm, commanding my total attention. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what Alexander would do.”
My father steps forward, placing his hand on my other shoulder. “You are not to blame for any of this. None of this is your fault, and we’re going to make him pay for it.” The tension in the roomeases off us a little, as if his words were meant to soothe each of us.
“You should rest.” Nikolai’s gaze flutters down and up again quickly. And I take the hint. He pulls a cot away from the wall and unfolds it.
“Thank you.” I lie down, more to appease him than anything else. Deep down, I know they’re right. I wipe away my tears, thankful I kept them back until the call was over. I stumbled into their world, but no amount of logic or reason can erase this heavy feeling of guilt.
Tossing and turning, seeking the best position, I try to get comfortable on the cot while listening to Nikolai and Dad discuss their plans. This isn’t the best-case scenario, but they have a common purpose. And it’s keeping them from going at each other’s throats. My heart clenches every time Mercy’s name is mentioned. I desperately want to do something to help her, but I know that all I can do is pray and hope.
“Let’s focus on finding out who this buyer is,” Zakhar suggests. “We’ll send a list of possibilities to share with the Lanzzare. Have you contacted Vito?”
“Yes, and I’m sure he will be calling back soon,” Nikolai replies. “You probably know more about his contacts than I do.”
Zakhar nods. “If we spread the word about what Alexander has done, we may get information on his whereabouts.” He sighs. “My intel is old, but it’s not a line of work people switch companies in.”
There’s slight laughter, and I close my eyes until the phone rings again.
I open my eyes and watch Nikolai at the table with my father. I can’t make out the words, but his expression darkens as he listens. Nikolai ends the call and stands staring toward the window blinds.
The sudden baying of dogs pierces the air. The sound carries, echoing off every wall, rising and falling in intensity as it approaches us. In a trance, Dad stands, and his eyes widen in uncontrollable fright, staring at the dark window. But my dad is fearless, and it takes a moment to understand what’s happening.
His face goes stone white, and the terror that has haunted him becomes real again.
“Zakhar,” I say softly, trying to reach him.
But he doesn’t respond, and his gaze locks on a distant point I can’t see. I feel a surge of sympathy for the man who existed eighteen years ago.
“Zakhar,” I repeat desperately. “Daddy?”
