Chapter 41
ARTYOM
No one seems to understand my urgency.
They weren’t there when Nina returned. They don’t understand that things are different now.
She’s not going anywhere of her own accord, which means that someone has taken her.
Ivan comes back with nothing. Franka Orlov hasn’t seen her. There’s no sign of a struggle in our rooms. No cars entered or left the Estate until everyone arrived for the vote in Vanya’s formal meeting room.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Which leaves me roaming the rooms of the Estate, desperately searching for any sign of where they might have gone.
The Estate is quiet, apart from the meeting with Vanya. She’s been cracking the whip to get everyone there.
Polina’s wing of the house is particularly quiet, even her guards gone. I’ve hardly seen her since Denis’s death, but I’m sure she’ll be at the meeting today.
She’ll be clinging to the last shred of her relationship with Vanya like a lifeline, because that’s her only remaining link to power.
Valentin calls me just when I’m at a loose end, about to drive out to sweep the surrounding area.
“You’re supposed to be at the meeting with Vanya,” I greet him.
“I still am,” he says in a low voice. “You need to get to the basement. Now, Artyom.”
There’s an edge to his words, not just of urgency. Annoyance. Valentin sounds exasperated by something. It takes a lot to rile my cousin in that way.
“Are they there?”
“Nina is. Get there. Now.”
He hangs up the phone with a resigned sigh.
I don’t have time to think about why Nina and Ava have been split up, or what Valentin was annoyed about.
I spring into action.
The basement is a relic of the days that my family was involved in human trafficking. A storage space, really. These days it’s somewhere we explore as children, and occasionally a wine cellar or used to hold art or antiques that were acquired with dubious origins before we can locate a buyer.
I race across the grounds to the archery course. The basement lies below the green, a kind of tomb made of concrete and marble.
My guards follow, but I’m running fast enough that I don’t care if they keep up.
Nina was here the whole time. On the property. Which means that whoever did this is a member of my own family.
Polina.
The thought grips me with certainty. This is an eye for an eye. I killed Denis, and now she’s going to take my wife from me.
I punch in the code to get into the basement, but the mechanical lock turns with a high-pitched straining sound. The door is jammed shut, like there’s something on the other side holding it closed.
There’s no other way in.
Nina is just on the other side of this slab of metal and yet I have no way to reach her.
I pound at it, wondering if it’s broken, until pain starts to shoot through my arm. Then I place my ear to the door to see if I can hear anything.
I catch snippets of voices. None of them Nina’s. Polina sounds frantic.
“Let him in—” I catch.
“We can’t. He’ll—”
The mechanism makes a loud screeching noise and I can’t hear the voices over it.
“Polina, I know you’re in there. I know she’s in there. Open the fucking door.”
I shout over the grinding until my throat aches from the volume.
The voices on the other side fall silent.
My guards catch up with me, but even the five of us straining at the door can’t make it budge. The unlocking mechanism is still trying to work, but there’s something in the way.
I press my ear at the door again, trying to parse what I’m hearing.
There’s scuffling, and screeching, and low frantic voices again. Like they’re moving furniture around.
The movement stops and finally I hear a clicking sound as the door swings open.
I burst into the room, shoving through the wall of Polina’s guards.
The cavernous chamber is illuminated by a single light bulb.
In the center of the room, Nina is propped up on a chair, her face pale and expressionless. Her arms and ankles have red marks, as though she was previously tied to the chair. Rage surges inside me.
She’s facing the door but clearly unconscious. Her eyes don’t move, nothing shows that she registers it when I call out her name. She’s perfectly, terrifyingly still.
A jolt of dread spears through me.
I rush towards her, but two guards step in to hold me back.
“Artyom.” Polina’s face is pale. For the first time in my damn life, she sounds apologetic. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” She approaches Nina, the guards holding me back as I growl at the sight.
Why won’t they let me near her?
Then Polina reaches for Nina’s head and rolls her so that I can see her back. Her dark hair hair is matted and shining with blood, the back of her nightdress stained crimson.
I hiss at the sight, straining against the guards to run towards her.
Just as I break free, Polina cries out. I see a flicker of movement. Nina raises her head and lurches into action. There’s nothing graceful about it, pure chaos and rage in one fit of energy.
Polina’s yanking Nina back by her hair, her hand flying to her chest.
Where a knife has been stuck exactly into her heart.
I meet Nina’s eyes across the room as she pulls the blade from my mother’s chest. She looks dazed, as though she’s just woken up from a nightmare. Her eyes are amber and blazing with fury.
She’s alive.
She’s alive, holding a bloody knife, and Polina is the one who drops to the floor.
Nina turns to me, her once again face blank of emotion or expression, like she’s sleepwalking. As our eyes meet, her lips curve into a smile. “I knew you’d be here.”
Then Nina plummets to the ground. I dive across the room to catch her before she hits the concrete again. My hands almost slip on her back, there’s so much blood, but I pull her close to my chest and wipe her hair back from her forehead.
“What happened?”
Nina raises a hand to my face and rage surges in me when I see how her wrists have been rubbed raw from rope. Her eyes are clouded and unfocused, but she smiles as her cold fingers trace along my jaw. She’s clammy and shivering.
Her brow draws together and she squeezes her eyes shut. That knock to her head must be painful.
“I don’t understand. Why did they stop her?” She asks, her voice dazed.
“Why did who stop who?”
I look up and realize everyone in the room has turned around. But they’re not watching me and Nina, or even checking on Polina.
No, their eyes are turned towards the entrance to the basement, where the tap of a cane signals exactly who has arrived.
Vanya enters the basement with a smile on her face, no reaction to the sight of her daughter in law covered in blood. She’s holding Ava’s hand, who starts to wail when she sees Nina covered in blood.
“Shh, child, she’ll live.”
Ava pulls away from Vanya and runs across the room to me. I pull her close to my side and almost cry with relief.
They’re alive. They’re both alive.
The pit of dread in my stomach loosens a little, replaced with confusion.
“The meeting’s over?” I ask Vanya.
She flaps a hand. “Oh, that. Yes, it’s over, Tyoma. But more importantly: well done, my boy.”
I don’t understand why Vanya is congratulating me.
She crosses the room towards us, slow and hunched but beaming with pride. I shield Ava and Nina behind me. “What’s going on, Babushka?”
She stops before us, a wide smile still spread across her face.
“Just a little test, Tyoma. I had to make sure you were ready. Both of you.” She turns to Nina, too, whose trembling is getting worse by the minute.
She freezes as she processes Vanya’s implication. Then I feel Nina tense and lean forward.
“What?” she hisses at Vanya.
“You were never supposed to get hurt.”
“Art, hold Ava.”
I turn to my wife, as she leaps forward to slap my grandmother in the face. And honestly, I cannot blame her at all.
Vanya recoils in shock.
I’ve never seen anyone hit Vanya before. She winces as she brings a hand to her reddening cheek, then starts to laugh. “She’s a feisty one, your wife.”
“My daughter — our daughter — is not some pawn in whatever game you’re playing, old lady,” Nina hisses, then winces as though the sudden movement has caught up to her.
Vanya cackles as Nina collapses back into my arms.
“Mommy needs a doctor,” Ava says, frowning at Nina and tugging on my hand. My heart pounds as I realize she’s right.
“I knew I taught you well. You understand, this tree will crumble to dust if it’s not supported by love, Tyoma,” Vanya is saying, going on about her family metaphors.
If this is what she does to family, then the words truly mean nothing to her. I can’t fathom her putting Nina at risk like this — leaving her with Polina, when we all know that she’s been unstable since Denis’s death.
Vanya’s words fade into the background as I press my fingers against Nina’s jugular, just like she showed me.
Two fingers, firm pressure, an inch in from the corner of the jaw.
No.
I try not to let the panic grip me, trying to stay strong for Ava, but Nina’s freckles are stark as her face pales by the second.
Her heartbeat is so weak that I almost don’t notice the pulsing against my fingertips.
It’s anything but strong and steady. It’s thready and irregular. Blood loss from her head injury. She needs to get to a hospital.
I don’t have time to find out what the fuck Vanya was thinking when Nina is this weak.
I carry Nina to the entrance, Ava’s hand in mine, and tell the guards to get the helicopter set up.