CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fyodor
I know that she is trying to hide what happened from me; I mean, that has to be the only explanation, but I am determined to get the truth out of her.
For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that she has a huge secret, and while normally, I would have reported what happened immediately to Pietro, I decide to first have a discussion with her before deciding if my father-in-law should know.
I look at her as she sleeps, wondering how, once again, I lost my resolve. All I know is that she needed comfort, and being intimate with her has proven to be an easy way I can distract her.
Now, I can't help but wonder if that was a big mistake.
Realizing that she might be hungry when she wakes up, I head down to the kitchen and fix a quick meal. Oksana tries to help me, but I assure her that I want to make breakfast myself.
“I see that you are awake,” I comment as I head back inside the bedroom, bringing the tray of food to her.
“Breakfast,” she says happily as I place the tray in front of her. “It’s almost as if you knew I’d be hungry.”
She wolfs down the toast and eggs with excitement, and I can’t help but look at her, feeling a strange emotion gnaw at me.
I wait for her to finish her meal before telling her that we need to talk about what happened the previous day.
Almost immediately, I sense her reluctance to bring up the issue.
However, I have made up my mind that I’m getting the truth out of her, whatever it might be.
“Do we really need to?” she asks.
“Yes, we do, Anastasia. Someone tried to shoot you, and if you were alone, god knows what would have happened!”
It seems like she’s downplaying everything that happened, and that bothers me because she needs to realize that this isn’t some kind of joke.
“I mean, why would anyone go to such extreme lengths to try and murder you?”
“We don’t know that,” she quickly puts in, and I try not to scoff at her statement.
Oleg told me late last night that she mentioned she was meeting with someone, and I need to know who it was.
“Come on, Anastasia, you need to tell me what’s going on. Oleg already told me that you knew who you were meeting with.”
She bites her lip. I can’t understand why she’s reluctant to tell me what’s going on.
Unless it was with Dylan; of course it would be him.
I tighten my knuckles as I realize that I really should have ended that boy’s life.
“Yes, yes, I was meeting with someone,” she finally admits.
“Who?” I ask. “Was it Dylan?”
“Dylan?” She looks at me as if I suggested something ridiculous. “Why the hell would I meet with him? No, I was meeting with someone who would help me with my brother.”
Silence descends upon the room, and I notice how her eyes widen as she realizes that I baited her into saying something she didn’t want to say.
Hearing that this has something to do with Alexei’s death bothers me.
Dylan's words come back to me, and at first, I might have tried to ignore them, but clearly, something is going on.
“By chance, are you looking into your brother’s death?” I ask her.
I notice how she seems to fidget, almost as if she doesn't want to talk about it, but if she is truly looking into her brother’s death, then that means that she might also be stepping on the toes of the very same people Yuri warned me about.
So far, I have been keeping up the pretense that I have given up entirely on the matter, but if she has been digging around behind my back, and if someone is determined to keep things a secret and doesn’t mind shooting her and her driver, then that means she is not safe.
She looks at me. “Ten years ago, I lost my brother in an accident, and while I am not exactly sure how it happened, I can remember that it seemed like someone intentionally tried to kill him.”
That much I know, and that’s not something strange, as Matteo also mentioned it.
“Five years ago, I overheard one of my father's men talking about how my brother's death was intentional, fashioned to get rid of him, so I employed a private investigator to help me look into this whole matter.
“Okay, and what exactly does that have to do with what happened yesterday?” I ask her.
She looks at me as if I suggested something ridiculous and shakes her head.
“Because Ray told me that someone witnessed exactly what happened that day, and if I met with them, I realized that I might be able to get to the truth about what happened to my brother.”
I take in that information, realizing why she wanted to keep it a secret from me. But the one thing I can’t understand is why anyone would go to such extreme lengths to prevent her from meeting with this witness.
“Are you sure that this meeting was legit and not a trap?” I bring myself to ask.
“Ray sounded convinced, and that’s the reason I set up the meeting. I was determined to meet with them, only instead of the person I was expecting, a fucking assassin showed up.”
Her outburst takes me by surprise. She’s really emotional about this, and I guess I’d be, too, if someone killed my brother right in front of me.
“Okay, deep breaths, Anastasia.” I hold her left hand in mine. “Take deep breaths.”
Getting her to calm down at the moment is of great importance. After a few minutes of deep breathing, I decide that she is ready to continue with her story.
“Can you tell me exactly how it happened?” I ask her.
She looks at me, her expression soft. “What happened? Like, what do you mean?”
I explain that I need her to recount the incident that happened ten years ago. “Everything you can remember, even if it doesn’t make any sense.”
She seems a little hesitant, but in the end, she finally decides to give in, and she begins to tell her story.
Her brother was traveling to San Francisco to meet with someone, and she had asked him to take her along that day. At first, he had been reluctant, but then he decided to let her tag along. They flew their private jet from Dallas up to San Francisco with some of her brother’s men.
“That’s still one of the best days I’ve ever had. He took me to an amusement park, and we spent the whole afternoon together, almost as if he knew he was going to die soon,” she says as tears begin to drip down her face.
I’m tempted to wipe away her tears, but decide to hold back, not wanting to interrupt. She continues with her story, telling me how, after they left the amusement park, they went on their way to meet with Alexei’s friend when suddenly, they noticed a few cars driving behind them.
“The details are really foggy now, but I remember the panic and concern in Alexei. He muttered something about how he knew this was going to happen, and before we knew it, the cars were trying to get us off the road. I remember some of them shooting at our tires, which popped almost instantly, leading to the car flipping upside down.”
That was the point where she lost consciousness, and while she didn’t know how many minutes had gone by, she woke up in what seemed like a wreck. A young man was pulling her away from her brother, whom she was trying to call out to.
At that moment, she looks at me, and for a brief second, what seems like intense hatred flashes through her eyes, almost as if I am the man in question.
Her story bothers me because it’s way too similar to an accident that happened ten years ago.
A ghastly accident that I witnessed, and one that I gave a brief statement for at the police station.
Of course, my status as a runner prevented me from going into details in my statement and checking up on the young girl I had pulled out of the wreckage.
“By chance…” I clear my throat, not exactly sure what I am to make of this whole mess. “The young man who pulled you out of the wreck—did you ever get to meet him again?”
“No. I didn’t get to see his face that much because as he was pulling me away, I was screaming out my brother’s name and looking for him in the wreck, but I know he’s the man who killed him.”
Heat rises deep from within me, but I try my best to keep my calm. Okay, something is definitely wrong in this story, but it’s possible that we are thinking about two different incidents. I can’t shake an awful feeling deep within me.
“Why do you think he killed your brother?”
“Because he mentioned something about how he needed to kill my brother as he was pulling me out.”
Now, at this point, I am convinced that we have different accounts of the same incident.
Ten years ago, I was returning from running an errand when Yuri asked me to pick up something on a different street.
On a normal day, I wouldn’t be the one he sent, but Yuri had mentioned something about how there was no one else he could trust.
I delivered the parcel, and just as I was making my way back home, I stumbled upon that accident. As a newbie in the mob, I understood that it was a mob hit, and I waited patiently until the men had driven away.
Moving close to see if there was anyone who needed help, I heard a man begging me to save his sister, and even though I said that I would save him first since he was easier to get to than his sister, he had insisted that I save his sister first.
She was a young girl, frail and barely breathing. I pulled her out, and she woke up during the process, screaming and calling her brother's name. It’s been so long, but I think she mentioned something that sounded like “Alexei.”
Oh god!
Now, everything begins to make sense.
I look at her as the pieces begin to fall into place. It is difficult to believe, but that night at the bar wasn’t the first night I met Anastasia. No, ten years ago, I pulled her from a car wreck, and I failed to save her brother.
“And, by chance, do you know who that man is?” I finally bring myself to ask.
“Yes,” she answers slowly, her eyes staring deeply into mine. “It was you, Fyodor. Ten years ago, you killed my brother.”