Chapter 29 Katya
KATYA
The country home feels strange in daylight.
The windows look out over open fields that seem impossibly peaceful after everything I've been through.
I sit at the dining table with my mother and Artemy, a pot of tea steaming between us, and I realize I can't remember the last time I felt this still.
My mother has aged since I last saw her. Her hair is more silver and she has more wrinkles, but her voice is the same soft tone I remember, and when she speaks, I feel years fall away.
"I never stopped thinking about you," she says, her eyes fixed on mine.
"Every day, I wondered where you were. If you were safe. If you were happy."
"I wasn't," I admit, and being brutally honest feels raw.
"I was angry at you for a long time. For all the moving and instability."
Her face crumples, and she sets her cup down.
"I did what I thought was right. Your father's world was dangerous, and I wanted you to have a good safe life. I thought if I kept you away, if I raised you as Volsky instead of Morozova, you'd be better off."
"But I wasn't free," I say, my voice cracking.
"I was alone. I had no one, and I didn't know why. I thought it was my fault, that I wasn't worth staying for."
Tears spill down her cheeks, and she reaches across the table to take my hand.
"It was never your fault. I was trying to protect you, but I see now that I hurt you instead. I'm sorry, Katya. I'm so sorry."
I squeeze her hand, and the anger I've carried for so long begins to dissolve.
It doesn't disappear completely, but it softens, and I can finally see her as she is—a woman who did the best she could with what she had.
Artemy has been quiet through most of this, watching us with an expression I can't read.
When I look at him, he clears his throat and leans back in his chair.
"I grew up knowing I had a cousin somewhere," he says, his voice even.
"My father mentioned it once or twice, but he never told me where you were or even your name. And without knowing, the family was left to me. He wanted me to have the leg up in the family he never got because of Lyovik, and so I did, but this family has never been mine to command. It was yours."
"I didn't know I was Morozova until a few weeks ago," I say.
"I had no idea any of this existed."
He nods slowly.
"I can see that. You don't carry yourself the way someone raised in this world does. And that's okay. You're softer because life hasn't hardened, you and you've done well."
"I have?"
"And now you're here."
He glances at my mother, then back at me.
"Part of a family."
His warmth is unexpected, and I don't know what it means to be part of this family, to carry the Morozov name, but sitting here with Artemy and my mother, I feel at home.
I'm not sure I can put down roots in this place, but at least I know where I came from and what ties me to this world.
We talk for hours, sharing stories that fill in the gaps between us.
My mother tells me about the years after she left my father, how she moved from city to city, always looking over her shoulder.
Artemy tells me about growing up under his father's shadow, learning to navigate a world of so much danger.
And I tell them about my life—the thefts, the cons, the loneliness that followed me everywhere I went.
By the time the sun begins to set, my throat is hoarse and my eyes are dry from crying.
My mother looks exhausted, her face pale, and Artemy suggests she rest.
She agrees, squeezing my hand one more time before retreating to the guest room Artemy has given her.
When she's gone, Artemy makes a generous offer I'm not sure I can accept.
"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Both of you."
"Thank you," I say, and I mean it.
If only it were so simple.
But there is another matter pressing on me I have to address and I don't really know how to explain it to anyone but Dimitri.
He nods and stands, leaving me alone in the dining room.
I sit there for a while, staring at the empty teacups, as I try to process everything that's happened.
My mother's here.
I have a cousin who's accepted me as blood.
The war with the Radich crew is nearly done.
And Dimitri loves me.
The last thought makes my chest tense, and I push myself to my feet.
I need to find him.
I walk through the house, checking the rooms, until I find the balcony overlooking the courtyard.
Dimitri is standing there, his hands braced on the railing, staring out at the snowy fields beyond.
He looks tired and tense.
I step outside, shivering immediately, and he glances over his shoulder.
When he sees me, his expression softens, and he turns to face me fully.
"How are you?" he asks.
"Overwhelmed," I admit, moving to stand beside him.
"But in a good way."
He nods and looks back out at the fields.
We stand there for a while, and I let myself lean into the moment.
It feels fragile, precious, and I'm afraid to break it.
"I meant it," I say softly, thinking of the moment I introduced him to my mother.
I expect him to ask what I mean or to what I'm referring.
But he simply slides his hand across the railing to wrap around mine.
"I mean it too, Katya."
There's a tenderness to his tone that draws me in.
I lay my head on his shoulder and he moves his arm to wrap around me.
"I love you, and I don't say that word lightly."
I sigh peacefully, breathing in his scent.
He's strong in so many ways, and tender in all the right ones too.
When he first took me I wondered what I was in for, and now I know the truth is I was always safe with him.
"So, what do we do now?"
My question is more directed toward the war with the Radiches.
I want to know if it's over or if we're going to end up locked in more battles.
But Dimitri's mind is going a different direction and it takes me by pleasant surprise.
"Well, my bed is lonely, and I want you in it every night. And then there's a matter of the future of us, and how we'll raise children in this world. But those are all questions that can be handled in the future when we get to them."
I find myself smiling as I turn in his arms and look up at his face.
He's got stubble and tired eyes, but he's still so handsome to me.
"Is that the killer's way of inviting me to move in with him?" I ask playfully, splaying my hands on his chest.
"I don't ask. I order," he says, but he cracks a smile as he dips his head and kisses me.
It's a slow, passionate kiss that warms my insides even though the air is bitterly cold.
Then I sigh and say, "I guess I have to decline, then, because I don't take orders. I’m either your equal or we aren't going to work out."
Dimitri tickles my side and I laugh so hard and loud I think someone will come looking, but when I gasp, "Stop! Stop!" he relents, and I catch my breath.
"Of course I'll move in with you, Dimitri. I love you. But I'm serious about being equal. I don't want to sit on the sidelines. I have skills. I want to use them for you—for us. And I'll think about that 'children' part."
I wink at him, and he kisses me again, harder this time.
"I can't wait to get you back to my bed," he growls against my mouth while his hips grind on mine.
"Ah, ah! There could be people watching, Mr. Vetrov… Pace yourself."
I pull away, taking my heat with me.
"I'm going to turn in. I'll keep your side of the bed warm," I tell him, slipping inside.
Retreating to the room Artemy gave me and Dimitri for the night, I smile to myself already thinking what a wonderful world this may very well turn out to be.
My mother is here. my family is more whole than it has been in years, and I have a man I love desperately who loves me the same way in return.
That sounds like heaven compared to what my life has been.
Somebody pinch me.