Chapter 28
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Maksim
Miss you.
Her words have been echoing in my head for the last thirty minutes, ever since I hung up.
Miss. It’s too small a word, too weak to capture the raw ache that settled in my chest the moment I left her twelve hours ago.
It feels like a vital part of me is missing when I’m not near her, like I’m only half-alive.
That settles it. Never again. Next mission, no matter how dangerous, she comes with me.
I step into our bedroom, expecting to find her curled up on the bed, maybe reading. The emptiness hits me first. She’s not here. Unease prickles down my spine. I dial Akim, skipping the usual greeting.
"Where's Julia?"
"How should I know?" His voice is rough, stressed. "I'm stuck at the port. A shipment got held up, won't let it into the city."
We spoke less than an hour ago. Where the hell would she go without telling one of us? Especially now, after everything…
"Actually," Akim adds, a thought striking him, "she might be with Zoya. I asked her to check on her tonight."
It's the only logical explanation. Still, the unease lingers as I head toward Akim's cottage.
As I get closer, the feeling intensifies.
Something's wrong . Then I hear it, faint shouts and a muffled cry.
My hand goes to my weapon instinctively as I break into a run, covering the remaining distance quickly.
The cottage door is slightly ajar. It takes me five seconds flat to cross the threshold and move down the short hall, drawn toward the sounds of struggle coming from the main room. Then I hear Julia’s voice, sharp and strained, laced with something I don't recognize.
"If you don't stay put, I'll make sure the next bullet quiets you for good."
I burst into the living room. Julia is kneeling over Zoya, her pistol pressed firmly against Zoya's temple. Zoya is sobbing, her eyes red-rimmed and wild. On the nearby sofa lies a small boy, unconscious, one of the two kids brought in today, the ones supposed to be locked in the basement.
The sound of my entrance makes both women freeze, their heads snapping toward me. Gun raised, my voice comes out harsh, demanding.
"Explain what the hell is happening here. Now!"
Julia’s eyes widen when she sees me, a flicker of something—guilt? relief?—crossing her face before it hardens again. Zoya thrashes beneath her, trying to push her off. When she finally breaks free, clutching her bleeding arm, she scrambles toward me, her voice rising hysterically.
"I found her trying to strangle the boy! When I confronted her, she dragged me here. She tried to kill me, Max!"
I hear the words, but my brain refuses to process them. They're like puzzle pieces from different boxes, refusing to fit. Julia? Hurting a child? Impossible. Which means…Zoya is lying.
"Julia," I say, my voice softer now, my gaze fixed on the woman I love. Relief washes over her face, so profound it makes my chest ache. How could she ever think I’d believe such garbage about her?
Before Julia can speak, Zoya throws herself at me, grabbing my shirt, her voice pleading, desperate. "Max, you have to believe me! Please!"
My pistol finds her temple, the cold metal silencing her instantly.
And in that moment, looking down at her, truly seeing her for the first time in…
how long?...something inside me tears. Zoya was good.
Sweet, innocent Zoya. She was supposed to stay good.
But this place, this poison, it seeped into her slowly, insidiously, while we weren't looking.
We all saw the little girl with big eyes and braided pigtails, blind to the ice forming in her gaze, the manipulation weaving through her words.
"She was strangling him when I walked in." Julia's quiet confirmation is all I need.
My eyes drop to the girl trembling beneath my gun, the girl who is about to shatter my best friend's world.
"Julia," I say, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Call Akim. Tell him it's urgent."
Zoya's eyes widen in panic, and she starts shaking her head frantically. Keeping the gun trained on her, I move to check the boy on the sofa. Please let him be okay. For everyone's sake, Zoya better hope she doesn't try anything stupid right now, because I wouldn't hesitate.
He has a pulse. Just unconscious. If Julia hadn't gotten here…tomorrow morning, we would have found another small body dumped near the woods. It’s so obvious now, sickeningly clear.
Their cottage is practically spitting distance from where the other bodies were found.
Zoya knew the camera blind spots, the patrol schedules… But why?
I don't know how long we stand there in suffocating silence.
Eventually, I hear Akim's heavy, hurried footsteps approaching.
No amount of time could have prepared him for this.
He bursts into the room, his gaze taking everything in—the unconscious boy, me with my gun on Zoya, Julia standing tensely nearby.
His first reaction is pure fury when he sees Zoya’s bleeding arm. "WHO?" The single word is a raw demand.
Zoya just trembles, her tear-filled eyes darting toward Julia.
When Akim's gaze follows hers, his face contorts with rage. He takes a menacing step toward Julia, toward the woman who holds my sanity in her hands.
"You better stop right there," I warn, my voice low and dangerous.
"I want to know why my sister is bleeding and looking terrified of Julia," he snarls, ignoring me, his focus locked on Julia. "NOW!"
"She's the one hurting the children, Akim." Julia's voice is quiet, almost gentle, as if trying to cushion the blow, but the words themselves are brutal, shattering.
For a second, Akim's gaze flicks to his sister, confusion warring with disbelief. He shakes his head slowly. "Zoya? Are you both crazy?" But then he looks back at us, at the grim certainty etched on our faces, and the denial starts to crumble.
"Akim, they're lying! Both of them!" Zoya lunges toward her brother, but it's that very desperation, so unlike her usual shy demeanor, that makes him recoil, taking an involuntary step back.
"Take off your gloves," Akim commands, his voice strained, on the verge of breaking. I know he's fighting back tears.
Zoya just shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her middle protectively.
The next moment, Akim reaches out, yanking off one glove, then the other.
Instead of the discolored patches or formations typical of her skin condition, we see scratches.
Mostly healed, faint pink lines against her pale skin, but undeniably there.
Scratches that match the timeline of the last victim found a week ago.
Tears finally spill over, tracking paths down Akim’s face as he stares at the undeniable proof. His voice choked, he asks the single, soul-destroying question, "Why?"
I expect her to refuse, to deny, but seeing her brother utterly broken seems to snap something inside her. She offers an explanation, her voice eerily calm, detached.
"I'm freeing them, Akim," she says, almost conversationally.
"You both always complain you can't save enough, so I'm helping.
Also," she adds, a strange lightness entering her tone, "sometimes, they cry so much.
But look now," she gestures vaguely toward the unconscious boy.
"They don't cry anymore. And there's this voice…
in my head…it tells me I'm helping them this way. "
Akim’s hands find the wall for support, his knees buckling until he slides down, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Zoya continues talking, pacing now, spinning in slow circles, lost in her fractured reality.
"Besides," Zoya continues, her gaze shifting suddenly, disturbingly, toward me, "he would have left, Akim. That’s why I helped you free them," she says, the word “free” now carrying a sickening double meaning, "so he wouldn't leave here.
That's why I told Aleksandr about your plans to run away with Vera all those years ago."
The relief flooding her voice is grotesque, as if this twisted explanation makes perfect sense, as if her actions weren't monstrous. I know Akim understands the devastating implication buried in her confession. But as she finishes, my gaze snaps back to her, and the edges of my vision bleed red.
"What did you just say?" The words are low, barely a growl, ripped from my throat.
I see her flinch, take a stumbling step back. Her only saving grace is Akim, who gets up, standing frozen just behind me, a silent, broken statue.
"She told me you were leaving!" Zoya cries, her voice rising again, laced now with a petulant accusation, raw revulsion aimed at me. "You were going to leave us behind!"
All this time. All these years believing Vera and I were caught because I was careless, because I messed up. All this time, the guilt gnawing at me…and it was her. She took Vera’s kindness, her trust, and fed her directly to the fucking snakes.
I can’t look at her anymore. The sight of her makes me physically ill.
Julia's voice cuts through the suffocating silence, sharp with dawning realization. "You sent Gregory to my room when Max was gone," she states, not a question. "That’s why he looked at Akim when Max asked who was responsible. Not because Akim sent him. You did."
My head whips toward Zoya, a desperate, irrational hope flickering. Please, tell me this isn’t true .
But she just lifts her chin, glaring defiantly at Julia, and spits, "You came here and ruined everything! You think I didn’t see how he looks at you? He would have left for you!"
Akim runs his hands violently through his hair, staring at his little sister as if she’s a complete stranger.
Dried tear tracks stain his cheeks, but a new, terrifying flame burns in his eyes now.
Because Vera was his friend, too. Because he understands exactly what Zoya's confession truly means and the depth of her betrayal, the destruction she wrought.
"Maksim," Akim says, his voice suddenly detached, hollowed out, "call Dr. Taserovich. Tell him I need an admission. Best psychiatric clinic he has access to."
"NO!" Zoya screams, the sound high-pitched, frantic. "NO, I'M NOT CRAZY! Can't you see I'm doing them a favor? I don't torture them, I don't cut them, they don't bleed!" Her shrieks escalate, raw and unhinged. Julia lunges, clapping a hand over Zoya’s mouth, but Zoya bites down hard, drawing blood.
"Zoya, that's enough!" I snarl, taking a step toward her. She can't escape, not really, but she's unstable, unpredictable, and I don't want to risk chasing her across the entire property.
After making the call, my voice clipped and impersonal as I relay Akim's request, I turn back to my friend. He’s slumped on the floor now, looking like a zombie, utterly vacant.
"Akim," I say, my voice rough. "We have to go." I wish I had words of comfort, something, anything, to offer. But this? Sending her away? It’s the kindest thing we can do for her now. If Ivan finds out what she’s been doing, how much money her actions have cost him over the years…he’ll kill her without a second thought.
My fingers tremble, itching for a blade.
I want to make her bleed for Vera, for stealing her light, for shattering my soul with her petty jealousy.
But a sliver of rationality cuts through the rage — Zoya isn't just a monster.
She's another victim of this goddamn house, broken and twisted by the poison that permeates everything here.
Akim shudders, a full-body tremor, then slowly, mechanically, pushes himself to his feet. As he approaches Zoya, fresh tears well in his eyes, spilling silently down his cheeks.
"Please, Akim!" Zoya whispers, her voice suddenly small, childlike.
And for a heartbreaking second, I see the girl she used to be five or six years ago — shy, awkward, the girl who baked us sticky buns, the girl everyone else ignored.
The girl who somehow lost her grip on reality with every passing day spent surrounded by monsters.
"I love you, Z," Akim chokes out, his own voice thick with unshed tears.
"And this is all my fault. I should have gotten you away from here.
Hidden you from all this evil. But I was selfish.
" His voice breaks. "You're all I have left in this world, and I wanted you close.
We'll get you help," he promises, his voice cracking.
"We'll make you better, I swear." He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.
Zoya shakes her head frantically, tears streaming down her face, but it's no longer her choice.
And as I watch my best friend lead his broken sister away, toward a future locked behind clinic walls, I want to scream at him that it's not just his fault.
It's mine, too. We were so focused on saving others, on fighting the darkness, that we were blind to the poison creeping into her soul.
We failed Zoya, letting the venom of this house corrupt her until there was nothing left of the girl we once knew.
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