Chapter 43 Katya
Three Months Later
“Sabrina?”
“Oh, I’m not—” I say but the nurse taps on my shoulder.
“It’s better to go along with it. Her Alzheimer's is too progressed to try and reason with her. It will only upset her more. Who did you say you were again?”
“I’m a friend of her daughter’s.”
“You do resemble her, with the red hair and all. We miss Sabrina. Haven’t seen her in almost a year. She usually visits around the holidays.”
“She…passed away.”
The nurse gasps, her smile fleeing her face in a second. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry to hear. She was such an angel. She must have set something up to continue payments to the facility. We haven’t heard any whispers that Mrs. Lillian would be leaving us.”
“Someone is looking out for her,” I say as I lean down to lay my hand on Lillian’s.
“Hi…Ma.”
The old woman’s graying red hair flies in wisps around her face, swept back and secured with a clip. Her green irises shine and I can see Nova in them—can see her kindness and compassion, traits I can tell she got from her mother.
Her other hand covers mine. It’s aged, the skin fair, bluish-purple veins poking through the almost translucent skin. “Oh Sabrina, how was school today? That Andy boy didn’t give you any trouble, did he? You know I work with his father; I could speak with him.”
“No, Andy was fine,” I reassure her.
“Good.” Her vacant stare drifts to the window and when she turns back toward me, her brows furrow. “Hello, who are you?”
“I’m a friend of your daughter’s. She couldn’t make it today but wanted me to check on you.”
“Oh, my sweet Sabrina, I do miss her. How is she?”
I fight back tears thinking of Nova. “She’s doing great. She’s traveling the world. I think she’s in…Italy.”
“Oh, that girl, she does love her Italian food. You know her favorite was always spaghetti, of all the marvelous Italian dishes and she always wanted spaghetti!”
“Sounds like her. She wanted me to tell you she loves you and misses you and you were the best mom.”
Tears well in Lillian’s eyes, full of love for her daughter before something shifts in them, emptiness replacing longing. “Are you here to fix the heater? You know I called the landlord two weeks ago. I have a nine-year-old daughter and tonight’s storm is supposed to put us below freezing.”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand. I’ll get right on it.”
She huffs, looking away from me. “Thank you.”
After I ran from Seattle, I jumped around place to place to keep the twins and Alexey off my tail.
I reached out to my underground contact, Gage, who has been keeping tabs on the twins, Alexey, and Ilya.
He’s a tech genius who hacks into the FBI network for funsies.
We’ve been working together for years and although I’ve never met him in person, I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.
He’s based in Boston, and I wonder if one day he would be comfortable meeting me.
After my tracks were well covered, I researched Alzheimer’s facilities in Boston and was able to find Nova’s mother and her real name. Sabrina Castle.
I’ve been in Boston for two weeks now and I think I’ll stay for a while. It’s a bustling city and it’s easier to hide in plain sight amongst a large crowd than in a rural area. Plus, I owe it to Nova to visit her mom.
I dyed my hair like Nova’s, a deep red and I’ve been wearing green contacts to cover my heterochromia. Once I get new records and an ID from Gage, I plan to get a nose job and maybe a little bit of filler. Something to alter my appearance just enough.
Gage’s brilliant mind has come up with the idea of spinning a tale of Katya Romanova dying in a car accident. I sent him some photos of my real face and a few strands of hair for DNA.
I don’t believe the twins will buy the false tale, but he assures me it will be undeniable. In their hearts they may not be able to comprehend I was taken out by something as silly as a car accident, but their minds won’t be able to deny the evidence.
Before I leave, I reassure Lillian the heat is fixed and she kisses my palm and thanks me profusely.
When I find my way to the nurse’s station, I wait for the older nurse to get off the phone before clearing my throat. “Excuse me?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Does anyone else ever visit Mrs. Castle?”
“Oh, not really. Around the holidays her daughter and two tall fellows would come by, but we haven’t seen them since last Christmas. Sadly, Lillian’s Alzheimer's has progressed so much, their absence isn’t noticed much. The other nurse told me her daughter has passed?”
My stare meets the white counter. “Yeah. Three months ago.”
“My, how sad. She was so young. Do you know what happened?”
“It…it was an accident.”
The nurse clutches a cross around her neck. “I see. Well, you come anytime. Lillian loves visitors. She may not remember what she said two minutes ago, but she’ll talk your ear off.” The older woman chuckles before busying herself with some paperwork again.
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
I fiddle with my necklace before catching myself, instead tracing the lines of my palm to calm my anxiety. “Could you keep my visits private? I’m…hiding from my ex. He can be dangerous, and I don’t want him to know I’ve been visiting Lillian. I’d hate for him to cause a stir.”
I bat my eyelashes, and she sops it up like a fucking mop. “Oh, of course, dear. How awful! If anyone asks, I never saw you.”
“Thank you.”
I leave the facility, feeling like a shitty person. Not only for lying to the nurse, although it wasn’t a lie. Not really. But even worse because it should be Nova here, not the girl responsible for her death.
The cold Boston air hits me as I exit and my right shoulder aches. The cold air worsens the pain in all my joints but especially that one. It was already fucked but then Dante fucking shot me and the bullet’s still there.
A little reminder of my failure.
I failed everyone.
The twins, Nova, Ilya.
Myself.
My brother pops into my mind as often as the twins. I wonder how he’s doing? Did it turn him into a monster like Alexey or has he held onto me? I miss him. I miss Nova. I miss Enzo and Rafael.
I’m so fucking lonely. Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it, maybe dying there that night would have been better.
I wouldn’t be stuck with these thoughts creeping into my mind like ink in water.
Spreading bleakness and despair through my body.
Some days, I don’t know why I’m fighting.
Other days, I remember what Nova wanted from me, to choose myself.
How do I choose myself when I hate who I am?
As I head back to the motel I've been staying in, I think about how I’ll need to get a job. Gage can only provide me with so much cash before he runs low himself. I hate that he's doing all this for me. One day, I'll pay him back.
But I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do. All I know how to do is kill and you have to have a degree and license to practice medicine.
I’m lost in my thoughts as a car horn blares and I glance up, seconds away from getting hit. Damn. I should have walked a little faster, it could have taken me out.
“You okay?” a gruff voice asks as I catch my breath.
An older man leans against a brick wall of an old firehouse, smoking a cigarette. Old boxes and equipment pile high next to him.
“I’m fine,” I say with more snark than I intend.
“Just askin’”
A help wanted sign hangs on the old roll up garage door and I throw my head back, letting out a sigh.
I need a job. He needs help. He doesn’t seem like the type to do a background check, and I hope I didn’t fuck this up.
“Are you hiring?” I ask as he picks up a box, about to take it into the run-down brick building.
He grunts, cigarette stuck between his lips. “Good job, you can read.”
I can’t help but snicker at his attitude. Seems exactly like the kind of person I need to make friends with. Someone who won’t ask too many questions, someone who won’t want to get close.
“What’s the job?”
“Opening up a gym. I need boxers to teach classes. Not the job for a little thing like you.”
For the first time in three months, something inside begins to bloom. No, bloom isn’t the right word, but it’s there, like a flower trying to emerge from a crack in the concrete. This grumpy ass and his beaten down gym are exactly what I need right now.
Just a dash of hope to make true on my promise to Nova.
“I might surprise you. My name’s Sabrina.”
“Joe Shay.” He takes my hand and gives it a firm shake, then his hopeful stare flicks toward the dilapidated boxing ring in the center of the run-down firehouse. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”