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In a swift motion, I grab the chair I was sitting on and hurl it against the wall. It crashes with a resounding thud, splintering into pieces.
"You're the traitor. You've been lying, manipulating everything around you—including me. You call that loyalty?"
Her lips thin into a hard line. “I did what I had to do.”
I clench and unclench my fists, desperate for release. “I found your stash. Pieces of my life you insisted on keeping. It’s fucking twisted. You’re sick. And I am a fucking idiot for not seeing it sooner.”
"You remind me of him … Arkady.” Nadya's voice breaks as she clings to her memories of the past. “The man I loved. Your sense of honor, your reverence for our heritage, and the way you uphold the bratva's loyalty oath. You brought back a part of him to me.”
“Your lover? A man stupid enough to be loyal to scum like Oleg Antonov?”
"Stupid? No, he was wise in ways you can't comprehend. His loyalty was to the code, to the bratva oath," she counters fiercely, her restrained position only intensifying the strength inher voice. “My devotion was always to you, wanting only the best for you. You're blinded by her… But you'd be better off without that whore.”
“How very wrong you are,” I say through clenched teeth. “She’s the only thing in my life worth living for. The best thing that’s happened to me since Ilya, and you nearly took her from me. You have no idea what it would have done for me if I lost her, and our child.”
“Maxim, listen to me?—”
“Shut up.” There’s nothing she has to say that I want to hear.
But there is one more thing I want to know.
I pull out the pictures of Masha’s murder scene and show them to her, pointing to the corner of the frame where my Zippo lies. “What is this doing here? Were you trying to frame me for Masha’s murder?”
She huffs out a heavy breath. “I … I kept it as a memento. I know it was a gift from Irina, but it reminded me of you. It was carved with your initials. I couldn’t throw it out. I had it on me that day in case we needed to destroy the evidence. I lost it in the chaos.”
“You’re pathetic,” I growl. “Pathetic and deranged. I can’t listen to another word.”
The urge to get the fuck out of here overwhelms me as my worst instincts—the ones that lead to violence—rise within me. I yearn to see Nadya suffer as Kira did. I want her death to be slow and excruciating, a retribution for all she's done. But Kira pleaded with me to leave her execution to someone else. She doesn't want that stain on my soul.
“I did this for you. How can you not see that?” Nadya implores, her voice a haunted whisper.
I turn away, leaving her to the darkness of the basement. I nod at Konstantin on my way out the door—his cue to finish the job.
Nadya’s fate is sealed. But it won’t be me pulling the trigger.
Hours later,I'm sitting in my office, papers scattered across my desk, but my mind is elsewhere, with Kira. We've been home for a few days now, and she's doing remarkably well. Well enough that her doctors tell me as of tomorrow, there's no need for her to be on bedrest. I'm not sure if I agree, but Kira's practically climbing the walls with boredom. Moving around will be good for her.
There's a knock on the door, a brief interruption to my thoughts.
"Come in," I call out, expecting to see Kira's nurse with her hourly update.
But it's not the nurse who enters. When the door swings open, Alyona steps in.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of my estranged daughter. While the other Kozlovs went back to New York this morning, Alyona is staying for a while longer to be with Kira. To be honest, I’m looking forward to spending some time with my daughter as well. The last few days have been hectic with everyone around, but now it’s just us.
"Hi," she says, her voice tentative. “Do you have a minute?” She stands inside the door, her posture rigid, unsure of how to proceed.
I clear my throat, pushing aside the papers to give her my full attention. "Always," I reply, standing to greet her. “Have a seat."
I gesture towards the couch on the far side of the room. She hesitates, her fingers nervously twisting around her engagement ring, before she lowers herself down. I sit in the armchair across from her.
A knot of emotion tightens my throat. I’ve made so many mistakes when it comes to her. But there’s no going back in time to fix them. The only way now is to move forwards, for me to do better.
"I know things have been ...complicatedbetween us," she starts, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"Yes, 'complicated' is one word for it," I say with a little smile. “And that’s my fault.”
“I won’t argue that.” Alyona swallows thickly. “But I want us to start over. Kira is my best friend and now, weirdly, my stepmother.” She huffs a laugh and tucks a strand of dark hair—the exact color as my own—behind her ears. “If things are strange between us, it will affect my friendship with her.”
