Chapter 15 Mariya
MARIYA
Ipace my room like a caged animal, my mind spinning in circles that lead nowhere. The puzzle pieces. Those damn puzzle pieces my father hid in that underground room. Why? What's the point of cutting up photographs or documents into dozens of irregular shapes and hiding them in a metal box?
I stop at the window, gripping the bars until my knuckles turn white. The estate grounds stretch out before me, beautiful and pristine in the fading evening light. But all I can see is that box. All I can think about is what those pieces might reveal if we could just put them together.
My father was methodical. Careful. He didn't do anything without a reason. So there has to be a purpose behind this elaborate puzzle, something he wanted to hide so thoroughly that even if someone found the box, they wouldn't be able to understand what they were looking at.
But what? What could be so important that he'd go to these lengths?
I resume pacing, my footsteps silent on the plush carpet.
The room feels smaller tonight, the walls pressing in on me.
I've been here for days now, locked away like some princess in a tower.
Except there's no prince coming to rescue me.
Just a Bratva boss who thinks I'm the key to recovering his family's stolen heirlooms.
Frustration builds inside me until I want to scream. Instead, I walk to the dresser where my jewelry box sits.
I open it carefully, running my fingers over each piece. The necklace with its small pendant. The earrings that catch the light. The bracelet my mother wore every day until she died. And the brooch, the one that held the note that led us to the field.
I pick up each piece, examining them closely. Looking for what, I don't know. Another hidden compartment? Another clue? But there's nothing. Just jewelry. Just memories of a woman I barely remember and a life that feels like it belonged to someone else.
I'm about to close the box when I notice one of the icons. It's a small piece, a locket, really, with an image of a saint painted on the front. I've had it my whole life, but I've never really looked at it. Not closely.
I pick it up, turning it over in my fingers. The back is smooth, worn from years of handling. But the shape of it, the irregular edges, they look familiar. Like they might fit into something.
Before I can examine it further, there's a knock at the door. I quickly put the locket back in the box and close the lid.
The door opens, and a guard I don't recognize steps inside. He's young, maybe mid-twenties, with dark hair and a scar above his left eyebrow. He doesn't look at me directly, just gestures toward the hallway.
"The Pakhan wants to see you," he says, his accent thick.
My stomach tightens. It's late, well past dinner time. Why does Andrey want to see me now?
I follow the guard through the maze of hallways, down the grand staircase, and toward a part of the estate I haven't been to before. We stop in front of a set of double doors, and the guard pushes them open.
The library.
It's massive, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining every wall. A fireplace crackles in the corner, casting warm light across the room. And in front of that fireplace is a table with two chairs, and spread across that table are the puzzle pieces.
Andrey stands when I enter, his blue eyes finding mine immediately. He's changed since this afternoon, now wearing jeans and a black sweater. I catch the scent of his cologne as I move closer.
"Mariya," he says, his voice low. "Thank you for coming."
Like I had a choice.
The beast is standing by the window, his massive frame silhouetted against the darkening sky. He doesn't turn when I enter, but I know he's aware of every move I make. He's always watching, always ready.
"What's this about?" I ask, stopping a few feet from the table.
Andrey gestures to the puzzle pieces. "I thought we could work on this together. Two heads are better than one, right?"
I move closer, looking down at the scattered pieces. He's organized them somewhat, grouping similar colors and patterns together. But there are so many of them, and they're all so small.
"This could take hours," I say.
"Then we'd better get started." He pulls out a chair for me, and after a moment's hesitation, I sit.
He takes the seat across from me, and we begin. It's tedious work, picking up piece after piece, trying to find edges that match. The silence between us is heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional sound of a piece clicking into place.
I'm surprised by how focused Andrey is. His long fingers move with precision, testing connections and discarding pieces that don't fit.
There's something almost meditative about watching him work, the way his brow furrows in concentration and how his jaw tightens when a piece doesn't fit where he thought it would.
"You're good at this," I say after a while.
He glances up, a small smile playing at his lips. "I like puzzles. Always have."
"Is that why you became a Pakhan? Because you like solving problems?"
His smile fades. "Something like that."
We work in silence for another hour, slowly building the puzzle outward from the center. A pattern begins to emerge, something that looks like text, but it's still too fragmented to read.
I'm reaching for another piece when I notice something. A gap in the puzzle, a space where a piece should fit but doesn't. The shape is distinctive, irregular, with a curved edge on one side and a sharp point on the other.
My breath catches. I know that shape.
"What is it?" Andrey asks, noticing my reaction.
I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. "I need to get something from my room."
"Mariya—"
"Please. Just give me five minutes."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Matvey will escort you."
The beast moves from his position by the window, and I practically run from the library. My heart pounds as we climb the stairs. Matvey unlocks my door and follows me inside.
I go straight to the jewelry box, opening it with shaking hands. The icon locket is right where I left it, and I grab it, clutching it to my chest.
"Got it," I say breathlessly.
The beast doesn't ask what "it" is. He just gestures for me to lead the way back.
When we return to the library, Andrey is standing by the table, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes go immediately to my closed fist.
"What did you find?" he asks.
I walk to the table and hold out the locket. "I think this is the missing piece."
He takes it from me, turning it over in his hands. Then he looks at the gap in the puzzle, at the distinctive shape, and his eyes widen.
"Fuck," he breathes.
He positions the locket over the gap, and it fits perfectly. The edges of the puzzle pieces lock into the sides of the locket like they were made for it. Which, I realize, they were.
Andrey presses down gently, and something clicks. The locket opens.
Inside is another piece of paper, folded into a small scrap. Andrey unfolds it carefully, and we both lean in to look.
It's a drawing. Simple, done in pencil, but detailed enough that I recognize it immediately.
My heart stops.
"What is it?" Andrey asks, his voice tight with anticipation.
I stare at the drawing, at the small cabin surrounded by trees and the distinctive rock formation in the background. I've seen that view a thousand times, played in those woods as a child, sat on the porch of that cabin and watched the sun set over the mountains.
"It's our family cabin," I whisper. "In the mountains, about three hours north of here."
Andrey's hand grips the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. "You're sure?"
"Positive. My father took me there every summer when I was growing up. It's remote and private. The perfect place to hide something."
He looks at me, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes my stomach flip. "We leave tomorrow morning. First thing."
I nod, unable to speak. Part of me wants to refuse, wants to keep this last piece of my father's secret to myself. But curiosity is eating me alive. What did he hide at the cabin? What's so important that he created this elaborate puzzle to protect it?
"Get some rest," Andrey says, his voice softer now. "It'll be a long drive."
I turn to leave, but his hand catches my wrist, stopping me. His touch is warm, his fingers gentle despite the strength I know they possess.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "For telling me about the cabin. You didn't have to."
"I know." I pull my hand free, needing distance. "But I need answers too."
He nods, understanding in his eyes. "Tomorrow, then."
The beast escorts me back to my room, and I collapse onto the bed the moment the door locks behind me. My mind races with possibilities, with questions that have no answers. What will we find at the cabin? Will it be the heirlooms Andrey is looking for, or something else entirely?
I'm still lying there, staring at the ceiling, when I hear the key in the lock again. I sit up, confused. It's late, well past midnight. Who would be coming to my room now?
The door opens, and Andrey steps inside. He's still wearing the same clothes, but his hair is disheveled, like he's been running his hands through it. His expression is serious, almost grim.
"What's wrong?" I ask, my pulse quickening.
He closes the door behind him and leans against it, his blue eyes fixed on me. "There's something I need to tell you."
My stomach drops. "What?"
He's silent for a long moment, and I can see him choosing his words carefully. Finally, he speaks.
"We're getting married on Friday."