7. Ruslan
7
RUSLAN
The helicopter blades slow their whirring as we touch down on the landing pad. Pain shoots through my shoulder again like an old friend.
I glance at Aurora beside me. The bruise on her cheek has darkened since yesterday, and knowing Kristofer put it there makes my blood boil.
Yet here she sits, spine straight, chin lifted. A survivor planning her counterattack.
"Home sweet home," I murmur near her ear as the pilot cuts the engine.
Aurora's fingers find mine, squeezing gently. "Not quite how I pictured our return."
Vera sits across from us, clutching the thumb drive containing the Hermitage security footage. Her eyes dart nervously around the mansion grounds visible through the windows. I understand her anxiety. She's never been away from Vyacheslav before.
Not like this.
"You're safe here," I tell her in Russian.
"Slava certainly seems to think so." She nods, though the tension doesn't leave her shoulders. "But after what happened before…"
"Semyon won't catch us off-guard again, Vera Tikhonovna. I promise."
I don't mention anything about how it was only possible because of Mikayla's innocent mistake.
My poor niece is carrying enough guilt without others needing to know about it.
The helicopter door slides open, and I ease myself out first, ignoring the stabbing pain from my bullet wounds. My feet hit solid ground, and I turn to help Aurora down.
"I've got it," she says, but allows me to steady her anyway.
One of my men approaches with a respectful nod. "Welcome back, Ruslan Vitalyevich."
"Glad to be back." I scan the perimeter, looking for any signs of trouble. Old habits. "Tell Daria to prepare a room for Vera Tikhonovna. She'll be with us as my guest for a short while."
As we walk toward the mansion, my mind shifts to what we'll need to do in the coming days. Aurora's idea is brilliant.
Using a documentary about Kristofer's crimes to expose him publicly where his police connections can't shield him.
But getting production started in such short notice will be challenging.
We'll need a crew. We'll need to have not just the skeleton of a script but the entirety of the script finalized. We'll need to decide on cast if we choose to go with a dramatization angle.
And we'll need to move quickly while Semyon and Kristofer are still off-balance from their failures.
Aurora's hand brushes mine as we walk, pulling me from my thoughts.
"You're already thinking about what needs to be done," she says softly, "aren't you?"
"I am," I admit, squeezing her hand. "Everything from assembling the crew to figuring out the script to deciding how much dramatization we'll need through the middle."
"I can help you write the script." She steps closer, her voice growing stronger. "It's my story. I lived it. I survived it. Don't you think it's right that I should be the one writing it?"
The conviction in her voice stirs something in me. Of course she should write it. This isn't just another project.
It's her chance to reclaim her narrative.
To reclaim her life.
"Besides," she adds with a hint of a smile. "I've already made it clear what I think about the skills found in your writers' room. And this is a story that I don't want them to mess it up."
"I don't think I can stop you from writing it even if I tried." I touch her chin gently, careful to avoid the bruise. "Your determination and stubbornness are what I love about you."
She freezes for just a moment at the word "love," then relaxes into a smile that makes my chest tight.
"So we're agreed?" she asks.
"Agreed," I say, as I push open the heavy doors.
As soon as we enter, I'm immediately struck by the evidence of the brutal attack.
Marble columns chipped by bullets, windows shattered by gunfire, and dark soot marked where explosions had gone off inside my home.
If I tried hard enough, I can still smell the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood.
This was my sanctuary. The place I'd brought Aurora to keep her safe. And it became a war zone.
"It looks worse in daylight," I mutter, surveying the damage. The cleaning crew has made progress, but there's only so much they can do in such a short period of time.
Daria appears from the east wing, her normally composed face breaking into relief when she spots Aurora. She hurries toward us, arms outstretched.
"Aurora!" she exclaims, pulling my wife into a fierce embrace. "Thank God you're safe."
Aurora melts into the hug, her shoulders dropping as though releasing a weight. "I'm okay, Daria. I promise."
Watching them, I realize how much this mansion has become Aurora's home too in the short time since she arrived. How quickly she's established connections here.
Even Daria, who remained stoic through decades of Vitaly's reign, has grown attached to Aurora in just weeks.
"Daria Zakharovna," I say, then point towards Vera. "This is Vera Tikhonovna Potyomkin. She'll be staying with us for a while."
" Zdravstvuyte , Vera Tikhonovna." Daria nods respectfully to our guest. "I can show you to your room now if you'd like. And if there's anything you might need, please don't hesitate to let me know."
"Thank you," Vera says softly. "I hope I'm not imposing."
"Not at all," I assure her. "This is the least I can do for you as thanks for your husband's support."
We lead Vera up the stairs, carefully stepping around workers repairing bullet holes in the walls. When we reach our destination, Aurora and Daria guide Vera inside.
"You're sure that your husband will be all right?" Aurora asks.
"He still has his men around him. The ones loyal to him, and not the Mikonov ones spying on him in the open." Vera sighs, her delicate fingers twisting the wedding ring that looks too heavy for her hand. "There is only so much I can worry about now."
"You're remarkably strong," Aurora says. "I underestimated you."
"As are you, Aurora Markovna." Vera gives a small, sad smile. "You're stronger than you might believe. Not many could do what you did to win my husband's respect."
I lean against the doorframe, struck by Vera's assessment. She sees in Aurora what I've recognized from the beginning: a resilience that has carried her through horrors that would break most people. Aurora doesn't see her own strength, but it's unmistakable to those of us who know what to look for.
Just then, I hear a delighted squeal that can only come from my youngest nieces. I turn to see Stella and Sofia racing down the hallway toward us, their faces lit with joy.
"Uncle Ruslan!" Stella cries, her little legs pumping furiously.
Sofia follows close behind, gap-toothed smile blazing. "Aurora!"
I crouch down despite the pain shooting through my shoulder, opening my arms to catch them both. Their bodies crash into mine with the beautiful recklessness of children who haven't yet learned to fear the world.
"Careful with your uncle," Aurora says gently. "He's a bit sore."
I notice Mikayla hanging back, her serious eyes taking in the scene. Guilt is still etched across her face.
Vera steps back into her doorway. "I'll give you some time with your family," she says softly before closing her door.
"Who's that?" Sofia asks, pointing at the closed door.
"Vera Tikhonovna," I explain. "She's going to be staying with us for a while as our guest."
"Is she nice?" Stella wants to know.
Aurora smiles. "Very nice. How long have you girls been waiting for us?"
"Forever!" Sofia declares dramatically.
Mikayla finally approaches, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. When she sees the bruise on Aurora's face, she flinches visibly.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers. The weight of responsibility sits heavy on her young shoulders.
Aurora reaches out, taking Mikayla's hand. "This isn't your fault. None of it. I'm back now. We're all safe."
"It's good to see you up and walking, Uncle Ruslan," Mikayla says, her eyes carefully scanning my injuries.
I pull her into a gentle hug. "You did well, Mika," I tell her. "Keeping your sisters' spirits up while all of this has been happening. I'm proud of you."
She pulls back, her eyes serious beyond her years. "Mother has been trying to contact me again. Several times. I've refused to speak with her."
My heart tightens. No matter what Tamara has done, she's still their mother. This conflict has created a wall between them that might never come down.
"I understand," I say softly. "I know it's not easy."
"It's what's necessary," Mikayla says.
"Uncle Ruslan!" Sofia tugs at my sleeve, her excitement practically bursting out of her small frame. "Artyom is waiting for you too! He brought a friend for us to play with!"
"Did he now?"
Aurora kneels down beside Sofia, wincing slightly as her bruised body adjusts to the movement. "Who is this friend?"
Stella jumps in, her words tumbling over each other. "She has red hair and laughs really loud and knows all the best games!"
"Is her name Hannah?" Aurora says, her face lighting up with recognition.
"Yeah!" Sofia nods enthusiastically. "Hannah is the best! She showed us how to make paper airplanes that can fly all the way across the big room!"
"And she knows all the best hiding places for hide and seek," Stella adds.
Mikayla rolls her eyes fondly at her sisters' enthusiasm. "Hannah's been helping these two terrors find all the ice cream and cookies that Daria doesn't want them to have."
I try to suppress my smile. Daria must be beside herself with Hannah undermining her authority in the kitchen.
"Where is Hannah now?" Aurora asks, hope spreading across her face. I understand her eagerness to see a friendly face after everything she's been through.
Stella giggles. "She's always with Artyom whenever she's not playing with us."
"Always," Sofia pouts with dramatic emphasis.
That's interesting. When I left Artyom and Hannah together, they'd been at each other's throats.
Apparently, something has changed in my absence.
Then again, everything has changed.
"Girls," I say, crouching down despite the protest from my wounds, "would you mind giving us a moment? I think Aurora would like to speak with Hannah."
"But you just got home," Stella pouts, crossing her arms.
"I promise we'll have plenty of time later," I tell her. "Right now, Aurora needs to see her friend. You wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?"
Sofia shakes her head solemnly. "No. Hannah said friends are important."
"She's not wrong about that," Aurora agrees, gently ruffling Sofia's hair. "I won't take long. Promise. And then we can have ourselves a full tea party. All of us."
I guide Aurora down the marble staircase, my hand at the small of her back. Each step sends fierce jolts through my shoulder, but I don't let it show on my face.
Hannah and Artyom stand in the foyer below, locked in what appears to be a heated discussion. Hannah's hands wave animatedly while Artyom watches her with a mix of amusement and something that looks suspiciously like admiration.
"Hannah!" Aurora calls out, her pace quickening.
Hannah whirls around, her face lighting up. "Aurora!"
They rush to each other, and collide in a fierce embrace. I stand back, watching as they cling to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.
And in many ways, they are.
When they pull apart, Hannah gently touches the bruise on Aurora's cheek. Aurora mirrors the gesture, her fingers hovering over the cut on Hannah's face that Kristofer left there.
"Looks like we both got matching souvenirs," Hannah says, her attempt at humor undermined by the slight tremor in her voice.
"I'm so sorry he hurt you," Aurora whispers. "I never wanted you caught in the middle of this."
A weight settles in my chest, heavy and cold. I promised to keep Aurora safe. I promised to keep everyone safe. And yet, here they stand, two people I swore to protect, both bearing the marks of that monster's hands.
Artyom approaches me, his expression grim. "Security systems are being completely redone as we speak," he murmurs in Russian. "Bringing in specialists from Russia to do custom codes. No one's getting in without us knowing this time."
I nod sharply. "And any updates on weapons shipments?"
"Already in motion. We'll have serious firepower arriving within the week." He adjusts his stance. "The production companies are on standby for further orders if we need to bring in heavier firepower. Start production for another war movie, and I can get you enough equipment to build you an army."
"So what happens next?" Hannah asks, her eyes darting between Aurora and me. "What's the plan?"
Aurora straightens her shoulders. "We're going to expose Kristofer for what he is. For what he did to my family. We're making a documentary about it all. Something he can't bury with his police connections."
Hannah's eyebrows shoot up. "You're going to go public with everything?"
"Everything," Aurora confirms. "It's the only way to cut him off from Semyon and any other allies he's made."
"When will production begin?" Hannah turns to me, all business now. "How soon can you get this rolling?"
"Two weeks, at most," I answer, my mind already racing through logistics. "I need to push some paperwork through, but we can expedite everything. Aurora will write the script."
"And you're sure you’re ready to do this?" Hannah asks Aurora softly. "To face your past?"
"I'm done running." Aurora's eyes meet mine before returning to Hannah. "It's time I let the past die. And if it won't die willingly, then I'm going to kill it."