Chapter 23 Katya
KATYA
Dimitri returns to the apartment with tension written into every line of his body.
I watch him lock the door behind himself and engage both deadbolts before turning to face me.
Snow melts in his dark hair, and his coat carries the smell of cold air and cigarette smoke.
He looks at me standing in the middle of his living room, and something in his expression makes my stomach clench.
"We need to talk," he says.
I've learned that those four words never mean anything good.
I sit on the edge of the couch and wait while he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it carefully by the door.
He's stalling, I realize.
He's trying to figure out how to tell me something that's going to hurt.
"Just say it," I tell him. "Whatever it is, just say it."
He crosses to the couch and sits and I follow him and settle in next to him.
"The Radiches are planning to kill you before we can publicly reaffirm the pact your father made with the Vetrovs. They pulled a spy out from watching Rolan's compound this afternoon. He confirmed they're tracking our movements and looking for an opening."
I knew I was in danger.
I knew the Radiches would try to come after Dimitri, and probably me too.
But hearing it stated so plainly, hearing that there are men actively planning my death, makes everything feel suddenly too real.
"How long do I have?"
I force a steadiness into my voice that I don't feel, because that's what I do.
Part of the con.
"I don't know."
He runs a hand through his hair, and I see frustration and fear warring in his eyes.
"They'll move when they think they have the best chance of success. Could be days. Could be hours."
"So what do we do?"
"I'm moving you to a safehouse outside the city tonight. Somewhere the Radiches don't know about, where I can control who gets in and out."
He finally reaches over and takes my hand.
His fingers are warm and rough against mine.
"You'll be safer there while we figure out our next move."
I want to ask him what the next move is, but I'm afraid of the answer.
Instead, I focus on the feeling of his hand holding mine, the way his thumb traces small circles on my palm.
It's such a simple gesture, but it anchors me when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control.
"Rolan and I met with his lieutenants today," Dimitri continues.
"We're going to honor the pact my father made with yours.
That means you're under Vetrov protection officially.
We're taking a twenty percent cut from the eastern territories to cover the agreement terms, and we're reaching out to the other families to make it public. "
"Twenty percent."
I try to wrap my head around what that means.
"That's a lot of money to give up for someone you barely know."
"It's not about the money."
His hand tightens on mine.
"It's about reputation and keeping our word. If we break the pact, every other family in Moscow will know the Vetrovs can't be trusted. That's worth more than any profit margin."
I hear what he's not saying.
It's also about me, about keeping me alive, about not letting the Radiches win.
But he won't say that part out loud because admitting it would make him vulnerable.
"What about their vendetta against you, because you killed their soldier?"
The entire play for me was to get information to help him uncover who put the hit on his head.
It feels like everyone has forgotten that in this madness that has thrown my life into upheaval.
"I don't think they even care now. They're more concerned with killing you before we can locate your family to realign the families."
The brutal honesty of it cuts through any illusions I might've been holding onto.
I can't go back to my quiet life as a con artist.
I can't slip back into anonymity and pretend none of this happened.
My father's name has marked me in ways I'm only beginning to understand, and the only path forward is the one that keeps me standing in the middle of violence I never asked for.
"I need a shower," Dimitri says, standing slowly.
I can see the way his body aches, though he'll never admit it.
"We're leaving in an hour. Pack whatever you need, but travel light. We're not coming back here for a while."
He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water start a moment later.
I sit on the couch for a long time, staring at nothing, trying to process everything he just told me.
The Radiches want me dead.
The Vetrovs are risking their reputation and their profits to keep me alive.
Dimitri's moving me to a safehouse like I'm some kind of asset that needs protecting.
And somewhere in Perm, my mother lives her quiet life, probably never expecting that the daughter she tried so hard to hide would end up right back in the world she fled from.
But I'm here—knowing there's a target on my back.
Knowing those people know who I am and where I'm from.
They'll find her and they'll use her to draw me out. I just know it.
And I can't let my mother go through the same torture I went through.
My instinct to protect her and survive kicks in and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm on my feet and moving toward the door.
My hand reaches for the deadbolts, and some rational part of my brain screams at me to stop.
But the fear is stronger than rationality right now.
The fear of dying without answers.
The fear of never seeing my mother again.
The fear that they'll harm her.
I slide the first deadbolt open.
Then the second.
The door swings inward, and cold air rushes in from the hallway.
I step out into the hall with my heart hammering against my ribs.
The elevator is twenty feet away.
I could be in it and gone before Dimitri even finishes his shower.
I could disappear into the city, find a way to Perm, talk to my mother and convince her that the two of us need to flee, St. Petersburg maybe, or even out of the country.
I make it to the elevator and press the button.
The numbers above the doors light up as it climbs toward this floor.
My hands shake as I wrap my arms around myself. I'm wearing nothing but one of Dimitri's shirts and a pair of borrowed boxers, and I start to second-guess this.
I don't have my phone or my wallet or anything that would help me survive on my own.
I'm impulsive and stupid and I need to go back and get my clothes.
But maybe that doesn't matter.
Maybe I just need to get out before the Radiches find me here.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
I stare into the empty car, my feet rooted to the carpet.
This is my chance.
This is the moment where I choose to run or choose to stay.
If I step into that elevator, I'm choosing my mother and the life I used to have.
If I turn around and go back into the apartment, I'm choosing Dimitri and the violence and the danger that comes with being Ekaterina Morozova.
I think about my mother in that yellow building with blue shutters.
I imagine knocking on her door and seeing her face when she realizes it's me.
Would she be happy?
Would she be terrified?
Would she finally tell me the truth about why she spent my entire childhood running, about what my father really did to earn a pact with the Vetrovs, about whether I have family out there I've never met?
The questions pile up in my mind until they feel like they're choking me.
I want answers.
I want to understand where I come from and why my name carries so much power in a world I never knew existed.
But more than that, I want to survive.
I want to wake up tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.
And running to Perm won't give me that.
The elevator doors start to close.
I pause and let them shut.
The carriage descends without me, and I stand alone in the hallway with my decision made.
I turn around and walk back to Dimitri's apartment.
The door stands open the way I left it, and I slip inside and lock both deadbolts behind me.
My legs feel shaky as I move to the couch and sit down.
I almost ran.
I almost threw away the only protection I have because fear made me stupid.
I'm such an idiot, and I'm trapped now.
No way out.
The only thing I can do is rely on a man I barely know to protect me.
The water in the bathroom shuts off.
I hear Dimitri moving around, probably drying off and getting dressed.
When he emerges a few minutes later with damp hair and a fresh shirt, he looks at me sitting on the couch and doesn't seem to notice anything wrong.
"Did you pack?" he asks.
"Not yet."
I stand and move toward the bedroom.
"I'll do it now."
I throw clothes into a bag without really paying attention to what I'm choosing.
Then I get dressed in warmer clothing.
My mind is still spinning from what almost happened in the hallway.
I feel guilty and confused and sad.
I could've just left him behind without thinking about that much because fear makes me a foolish woman.
When I come back out with my bag, Dimitri's on his phone speaking and he sees me and ends the call.
"The car is waiting downstairs. We need to go now."
I follow him out of the apartment and into the elevator.
This time when the doors close, I'm not alone.
Dimitri stands beside me with one hand resting on the small of my back, a gesture that feels both protective and possessive.
The elevator descends, and I watch the numbers count down, thinking about how terrifying it was to be caged with those monsters as my captors.
Praying my mother doesn't ever have to endure that.
The garage is cold and mostly empty.
A black SUV idles near the exit with its lights on.
I recognize the driver as one of the men who was with us at the warehouse.
Dimitri opens the back door and guides me inside, then climbs in after me.
He throws our bags over the seat into the back and the SUV pulls out into the snowy Moscow streets.
I watch the city pass by through tinted windows, wondering if I'll ever see it again.
Dimitri sits beside me in silence for a long time, his hand finding mine in the space between us.
I watch the city thin out as we drive farther from the center.
Buildings give way to open spaces and then to forest.
Snow covers everything in a blanket of white that looks peaceful in the darkness.
"I almost ran tonight," I say quietly.
The confession slips out before I can stop it.
Dimitri's hand stills on his phone.
He looks at me with an expression I can't read.
"What stopped you?"
"I don't know."
It's the truth.
I'm not sure I understand my own reasoning.
"I got as far as the elevator. I was going to go to Perm and find my mother. I wanted answers about who my father was and why we spent my childhood running."
"But you came back."
"I came back."
I look down at our joined hands.
"I've spent my whole life being alone. My mother and I moved so much that I never had friends who lasted more than a few months. Coming to Moscow was supposed to be my chance to start a life I don't have to run from."
"And instead you found me."
He says it without emotion, but I hear the guilt underneath.
"Instead I found you," I agree.
"And now I'm caught up in a world I don't understand with people trying to kill me for a name I never even knew was important."
The SUV turns onto a narrow road that cuts through dense forest.
Trees press in on both sides, their branches heavy with snow.
We drive for another ten minutes in silence before Dimitri speaks again.
"I'm glad you came back…"
I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder.
He wraps an arm around me and holds me close as the SUV winds deeper into the forest.
The safehouse appears through the trees like something out of a fairy tale.
It's a large cabin built from dark wood with smoke curling from the chimney.
Lights glow in the windows, and I can see guards positioned around the perimeter.
"Home sweet home," Dimitri says, but there's little warmth in his tone.
"At least for now."
The driver stops in front of the cabin and gets out to open our door.
Dimitri climbs out first and offers me his hand.
I take it and let him help me out into the snow.
The cold air bites at my face, but the cabin looks warm and inviting.
"Come on," Dimitri says, guiding me toward the front door.
"Let's get you inside."
I follow him up the steps and into the cabin, leaving my old life further behind with every step I take.