Chapter 22
SONYA
Two weeks later
The dim late afternoon light slants through the blinds, painting Kelly's kitchen in stripes of gold and shadow. I sit at her small table, my hands wrapped around a mug of tea that's gone cold.
Outside is the dull hum of traffic, but inside, it's quiet, Kelly’s steady presence pressing down the chaos that's taken root inside me.
I feel hollow and raw, like everything I thought I had figured out has been stripped away.
I keep glancing at my phone, half-hoping, half-dreading that Matvei will call.
He won't. Not right now.
Kelly steps away from the counter, sits across from me, and sets her own mug down with a deliberate clink. Her brows knit together as she studies me, and I know she's searching for the right words to say, or at least ones sharp enough to cut through the mess I'm in.
“You look like you haven't slept in days.” Her voice is oddly quiet for my outspoken sister. Her touch is gentle when she puts her hand over mine, but her gaze is piercing. “Sonya, you need a plan. Hiding out isn't going to change anything.”
I manage a weak laugh. “I’m not hiding. I'm staying at my own apartment. How is that hiding?”
Kelly leans forward. “You have options, you know.
You don't have to do this alone.” She hesitates, searching my face, then continues, “Have you thought about talking to Organized Crime?
They could get you protection. You could be a witness for the prosecution.
They'd take down Samson, Matvei, all of them.”
I shake my head and stare down at my trembling hands. “I know, Kelly. I just—”
“You just what? You know it’s the right thing to do and I know precisely what Matvei is—I've seen it with my own eyes.”
But wasn't that to save my life? I haven't seen his books or his accounts. I don't know anything about his illegal dealings or what his shipments contain. Arms? Drugs? Not people, I know that much down to my bones. Never people.
“I don't have that kind of information on him.” My voice is barely a whisper.
I know that's not the only reason I can't be a witness against the biggest Russian crime lord in Chicago, the one whose bed I've shared, the one whose children I carry.
“I know it might be wrong, Kelly, but I just can't do that to him.”
My sister's green eyes flash, and I know I'm putting her in a bad situation as an officer of the law. But I’m one too, and if I don't know anything, she doesn't, either. Nothing we're doing is illegal.
“Maybe I’m being selfish, but there is no way I can go back and pretend to have feelings for him just to get dirt on him. Hell, I do have feelings for him. It’s… complicated.”
Kelly sighs, her expression softening. “It's not selfish to want to protect someone you care about. But you have to decide what you're willing to risk. Staying silent isn't going to make this go away.”
“I'm not in love with him,” I mumble, Kelly's expression telling me just how much she believes me.
I stare into my mug, watching the tea leaves drift, wishing for answers in their tangled swirls.
I want to believe there's a right choice here, a clean way out, but nothing about this is simple.
The ache in my chest flares with every possibility—turning on Samson is one thing, but betraying Matvei is entirely another.
I lift my eyes to Kelly, searching her face for the certainty I know she can't give me.
Silence stretches between us, heavy as thunderclouds, and I wonder if there's any right way through this storm. My heart stutters with guilt and longing, tangling together until I can't tell one from the other.
“What if I mess everything up?” I whisper. “What if trying to protect him only makes it worse?”
Kelly reaches across the table, her hand warm over mine. “You won't. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out. But you have to decide what you want. Not just for him, but for you, too, and for the twins. You deserve that. They deserve that.”
I nod, the corners of my mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile that never fully forms. The quiet between us is a kind of comfort, wrapping around the sharp edges of my worry.
Kelly's words linger, settling into the space between my fear and my hope.
I know she's right—doing nothing is its own kind of choice and I can't hide forever.
Kelly pushes herself up, suddenly, decisively. “Come on. Let's go for a walk.”
“It's literally freezing outside,” I groan, pointing to the cold, gray, threatening weather.
“Oh, come on. Don't be a baby. It'll be fine.” She pulls me out of the chair with an exaggerated gesture. “You're supposed to be getting light exercise, right? Plus, this will give you a chance to think.”
Kelly keeps a running commentary as we crunch through the thickly wooded trail that runs by her house.
A few people wind their way on bicycles while others pass by on a walk.
A guy with bright orange sneakers runs by, in the zone as he passes us effortlessly.
Talking is what she's good at, and she doesn't mind if I'm not exactly answering.
It's like a chant that lets me sink into my own thoughts, and she knows it.
Suddenly, I'm startled out of my reverie. I don't know why, but my heart rate picks up and the back of my neck prickles. It's suddenly very quiet—no other walkers, no runners, no bikers. Not even a song from a winter bird.
“Kells?” My voice is hushed, just like the path around us.
My sister doesn't reply immediately, but she has stopped walking.
“What's going on?”
Kelly shakes her head and takes my hand, leading me into the thick of bare, gray trees lining the path. I hunch behind my sister, trusting her instincts. Her eyes sweep the area, her hand instinctively moving toward her hip where her gun would be if she were in uniform.
Now I’m really freaked out. I slip my phone out of my pocket and type a quick text to Evgeny. Even if I haven't seen him since I stormed out of the doctor's office, I know he's been around.
“Come on, Sonya,” Kelly beckons. “Let's go. Quickly.” She pulls me deeper into the trees, wincing as the dead leaves crunch loudly under our feet.
“Did you see someone?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“Not yet,” she replies. “But something is definitely off.”
I reach into my pocket for my phone again, fumbling it as I share my location with Evgeny. I know he probably already has it, but right now, I don't want to leave anything to chance.
Through the trees, I see the man with the bright orange shoes coming back up the path, but he disappears as quickly as he appeared.
“Kelly,” I hiss.
“I saw it,” she whispers. She starts walking faster, and I struggle to keep up.
A moment later, I hear pounding feet over the leaves just before someone grabs me from behind. I scream and start thrashing.
For a moment, everything is chaos. I'm screaming and flailing. Kelly is screaming and punching at the guy, yelling threats and warnings. The guy grunts as my elbow connects with his ribs.
“Fuck!” he yells and releases me.
I turn in time to see Kelly smash her fist into the side of his head.
He goes down but quickly rolls and comes back up, launching himself at her in the next breath.
Kelly's ready for it. She ducks and uses his momentum to flip him over her back.
Then she falls on him, raining angry blows to his face.
But the guy is bigger, stronger, and clearly used to fighting. He moves almost too fast for me to register, scissoring his legs up and catching Kelly on the side of the head.
I scream her name as she goes down and the guy jumps on her.
I look around frantically for something to use as a weapon while Kelly grapples with him.
He manages to land a few punches and slams the back of her head against the ground.
Kelly lies there, dazed and breathing hard, as the guy starts to get up.
I smash him with the big branch I found. I was aiming for his head, but I hit his shoulder instead. He trips forward, cursing in a language I don't understand.
“Kelly!” I scramble over to my sister as she tries to get up, still dazed but knowing we have to get out of here.
“Are you okay?” we ask each other at the same time.
I help Kelly to her feet, only to scream again as hands grab me from behind, an arm winding around my neck and shutting off my air.
But it's not the guy in the orange shoes, because he's going after Kelly again.
She throws a punch and he dodges. She's still not at full strength, still wobbly.
He takes advantage and manages to land several more punches, one to her cheek and another to her stomach, causing her to double her over.
She drops to the ground and twists, taking the man's legs out from under him.
He falls, and once again, they're grappling on the ground.
I can’t tell who's getting the upper hand because I'm still trying to pry the arm away from my windpipe. I’m gasping for air, trying to do anything to keep myself from losing consciousness. I have to protect the twins.
A crack rings out. The guy kneeling over Kelly slumps to the side and doesn't get up. The arm around my throat disappears, and I can breathe. I stumble forward, straight into Evgeny. He holds me steady as I gasp and cough, sucking air back into my lungs.
“Kelly,” I gasp. I stumble around Evgeny to see my sister staring at the dead jogger with wide eyes, blood spattered across her cheek. There are bruises and cuts on her face, and her arm is curled around her stomach.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice hoarse, breathless. I'm still gasping, trying to replace the oxygen that was being squeezed out of me.
“Are you okay?” she asks instead of answering.
“I'm okay,” I manage.
I hear the sound of bone cracking and turn to see Matvei with a bloody fist as he punches my attacker over and over again, like he's in a frenzy.
He's going to kill him.
My line of sight is broken when Evgeny steps in, blocking my view. He takes both Kelly and me by the arms and starts moving forward, away from Matvei and the attacker.
“Let's go,” he says roughly, supporting Kelly more firmly when it's clear she's limping and hurt.
He's going to kill him.
The thought keeps going through my mind, the image of Matvei in a frenzied blur.
I soon realize I don't care what happens to either attacker. In fact, I scare myself when I realize I want him to do whatever he's going to do. The darkness in me battles with my brain and how I should feel.
They tried to kill my sister. They tried to kill me. They tried to kill my babies.
They deserve it, a voice whispers in the back of my mind, and I hate that I agree with it. I hate that even though I flinch when I hear a gunshot go off behind us, a part of me thinks, Good. Now we're safe.