Chapter 31
MATVEI
I nurse my drink just in time for a pause in my conversation with Rafail. There are voices in the room where Anissa’s supposed to be—low, muffled. And then…
Silence.
The kind that crawls up your spine and makes you listen.
At first, I figure she’s doing what she always does—taking voice notes, maybe making a call. She’s obsessive like that. Precise. Controlled.
But there’s nothing now. Not even the rustle of movement.
Rafail notices me staring at the door.
“Relax,” Rafail tells me. “You have to let go of some control, Matvei.”
Well that’s rich, coming from him. Still, he has a point.
My attention gets pulled away when Polina comes down the stairs, having finally put the kids to bed. She looks around, her expression pinched.
“Where’s Anissa? Yana? Zoya? Where is everybody?” she asks.
Rafail opens his arm in a lazy gesture and smirks. “Matvei and I are nobody?”
“I mean the girls,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“We haven’t seen Zoya,” Rafail replies. “No clue where she ran off to. Yana went to FaceTime her husband, and Anissa’s in the other room doing some work. She asked not to be disturbed.”
“It’s just… eerily quiet,” Polina says, shaking her head. “I don’t like it. I have this weird feeling. And didn’t we have guards posted at the main gate?”
Rafail flicks on his phone and pulls up the security app, eyes scanning the feed. “They’re right there,” he says, turning the screen so she can see. Polina studies it but still looks unconvinced.
“They weren’t there a minute ago. I swear. It’s strange.”
“Mrs. Kopolov,” Rafail says, amused, “Have I finally corrupted you? Seeing enemies in every corner?”
“I guess so,” she mutters with a forced smile, but her brow stays furrowed. “I dunno. I mean, I think twin intuition’s a real thing…”
I nod and pour myself another drink. I don’t like that Anissa isn’t here. I hate when she’s not close enough to touch. After everything that’s happened? I want her within reach. Always.
And if Polina says her intuition is on alert…
“What’s the latest on my parents?” I ask, pouring another drink.
Rafail sighs, shaking his head. “Unlike Gleb, we can’t prove they’ve been working with anyone. But chances are? Your mother, at least, knew exactly what he was doing.”
My hands curl into fists. “Her own son…”
Rafail drags his finger along the rim of his glass with a grim nod. “She always favored your younger brother. You know that. And your father? He hated that I became the pakhan . Of course their behavior tracks, brother.”
It does. It fucking does.
“None of us would blame you for being loyal to them,” Rafail says. “If anything, it’s a point in your favor. You’re a lot of things, Matvei, but disloyal? Never.”
Polina’s staring into her glass now, silent.
And everything’s still quiet in the other room.
Too quiet.
I don’t like it.
I don’t trust it.
I need to see Anissa. I need to see her with my own eyes.
Polina meets my eyes. “Check on her,” she says, her brow furrowed. I’m already on my feet.
“She should’ve come out by now.” I’m already moving.
I stalk to the room she was in—no laptop hum. No scribbled notes. No Anissa.
My pulse slams into overdrive. “Anissa?” I call out as if she’s just around the corner. Maybe she went to use the bathroom or get a snack. I can still smell the faintest whiff of the body spray she uses clinging to the air. My little ghost. “Anissa!”
Something flashes in the corner of my eye just as a bloodcurdling scream comes from outside. Polina races to the window. “It’s Zoya. Oh my god, it’s Zoya. She’s at the gates, Rafail. She’s—what is she doing?”
Rafail opens the window, the fastest way to get to his sister. “Zoya!” he yells into the darkened night. Floodlights beam on Zoya as she falls to her knees in front of the guards, who haven’t moved position since Rafail showed us the footage.
Oh god.
Oh god, no.
“What’s happening?” Polina asks, her hand covering her mouth.
“Yana!” Rafail screams behind him. “ Yana !”
The sound of footsteps echoes on the stairs. I’m at the monitor, my hands shaking. The red light means something’s recording—the screen’s recording, like a video on a phone. It’s still recording. With trembling hands, my vision blurred in fury, I hit the stop and rewind buttons until I see movement on the screen.
Five minutes ago.
She was here five minutes ago.
And she’s not alone.
Cillian fucking O’Rourke.
And Anissa… walking beside him. She’s not restrained or drugged. Her expression is unreadable. Too calm.
Like she planned this.
I asked her if they were a fucking couple. I asked her. He was too close, too out of place, I didn’t trust the fucking…
Behind me, Yana and Rafail are having a rapid discussion. Yana hands Polina a gun while Rafail calls the lockdown order for the estate. Yana goes to retrieve Zoya. Voices shout, and footsteps run through the house as security snaps into place. Windows and doors are locked. I’m dimly aware of it all happening behind me as I force myself to watch the video.
Don’t react.
Stay calm.
I’ll fucking kill him.
My vision tunnels. He didn’t take her. She went with him.
My hand shakes as I rewind the video, forcing myself to watch every frame. My stomach turns, my heartbeat racing in my ears.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafail snarls.
“She recorded it. She fucking recorded it.” I shake my head. “O’Rourke was here, Rafail. Don’t lock us down. For all you know, you’re locking the goddamn Irish in here with us.”
“We’re in an alliance. A truce,” Rafail grinds out. He’s in denial.
“Not anymore.”
I turn. Vadka. He leans against the doorway, calm as ever, his arms crossed. The room stills.
“You gonna stand there and whine about O’Rourke giving fuck all about our goddamn alliance, or are you gonna do something about it?”
I want to rip his fucking head off.
Anissa is gone.
“What did you just say?” I growl at him.
“You fucking heard me.”
“ Hey. ” Polina glares.
Vadka ignores her. “You’re watching the fucking video like she left you a love letter. If it were me, I’d be on that fucking road already.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just saying”—he pushes off the frame—“maybe she was in league with him. Maybe she was a fucking spy. Maybe?—”
I lunge.
Rafail shouts, but I’ve already got Vadka by the collar, slammed up against the door.
“Say another word. One more goddamn word and I’ll put you through that fucking window.”
He stares me dead in the eyes. “You think this is about her running? That the Irish fucker means something? That’s not what this is about.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re talking about a woman who worked firsthand with our enemies. And her top skill? Erasing. If she wanted to be found, you’d already have her.”
“Enough! God, you stupid idiots. The video is right here. Listen!” Polina plays it for us, the whole damn thing.
“But he doesn’t own you. You know how the Kopolovs work. Has he married you, lass? Even fucking proposed? No. You’re his kept woman. Disposable. His little ghost, who can vanish into vapor.”
“He threatened her with bombs. Here ! Right on our estate ,” Polina says. Rafail goes still.
Vadka shakes his head. I let him go with a parting glare. “We need to find those before we do anything .”
“I have to find her .”
“You’ve got a tracker on her?” Vadka asks. He narrows his eyes on me.
I nod, watching Polina, and whip out my phone.
“Not on her, but her phone’s location tracking. She probably shut it off.”
But when I pull up the app and watch her location, it’s right there. A blinking light.
“She’s headed southwest.”
Yana storms back in. “Zoya’s alright. Shaken but okay. They’re dead, Rafail. Bullets straight through the temples, propped up to look like they’re still there, guarding. Freaked her the fuck out.”
“Motherfucker.”
Vadka meets my stare. “Maybe she wanted to see what you’d do. Left the record button on. Tracker still active.”
“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Rafail says.
I drag my eyes back to the monitor and watch the last frame again—Cillian’s hand on her shoulder. Familiar.
I will find her.
And when I do?
She’s not fucking walking away again.
Vadka stares at the tracker. “Wait. I know exactly where they are.”
* * *