My head was swimming. The past and present were colliding, and I was losing it.
“Massimo,” Giada’s voice cut through the noise in my head. “I’ll send people for the documents and the clean-up. Don’t worry, I’ve got it. You go home and rest until Elio gets in touch. Then, and only then, you go and get your girl. Hold it together. She needs you.”
She needs you.
Yes, she needed me. Katarina. My angel. The image of her filled my head, and my foggy vision cleared. New strength filled my bones and straightened my spine.
She needed me.
Nothing else mattered.
38
KATARINA
Sergei Stoyanov lived in a castle, or that’s what it felt like, anyway. I hadn’t seen much of it, considering that as soon as we’d gotten here, I’d been shown to my room, Tatiana to another, and been locked inside. I prowled the confines of my cage, frustration building in my chest.
Why had I taken the dog tags off? Why had making Massimo understand how deeply I resented being controlled been the most important thing, at a time when danger lurked around every corner?
I sank down on the bed. Because I was stupid. It was clear at this point. I’d lived quietly in Hallow Hall for years, as obedient as an abused dog, scared that they’d hurt my mother, when she’d been dead nearly the entire time. I’d let the injustice of what had happened to Mira continue for so long, when I should have been brave enough to die to bring it to light. I’d pushed Massimo away, and over the phone, no less.
I got back up to walk the perimeter of the room. It was richly decorated but had none of the antique, artistic charm of Massimo’stownhouse. I looked out the window for the hundredth time. Bars slanted across it, and past them, I could see the bare branches of trees. We were outside the city. Somewhere quiet and elevated. Torino’s city lights twinkled in the distance. A road ribboned below, but no vehicles had passed in hours.
I walked around the room again. When the knock sounded on the door, I jumped. The walls were thick, and sound didn’t reach me easily.
The door opened, and a security guard in a black suit and shirt stood there.
“The director is waiting to see you,” he said stiffly.
I nodded, not about to argue about leaving this room. I followed him, my thoughts jagged and anxious, little shards inside my head. Sergei was my father. And Tatiana’s. It explained a lot, but it was still shocking. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. My mother had told me that my father had died in Bulgaria, and it was part of the reason why we’d moved to Italy. Had she known that Sergei was alive and well and living in the same city as us? Yes, of course, she had to have known. Why had she kept it from me?
We went down a grand sweeping staircase and entered a luxurious living room.
A woman reclined against a sofa, dressed as if she was about to go to a gala dinner. Sergei stood, stiff-backed, in front of the fireplace. He turned.
“Ah, Katarina, you’re here.” He smiled at me.
I stopped just inside the door like a puppet whose strings had been cut, unsure what to do next.
“Come in, come in. Would you like a refreshment?” He glanced meaningfully at the woman on the couch, but she was engrossed in her phone and ignoring him. She looked to be about my age, maybe one or two years older.
“This is Rada, my fiancée,” Sergei said. “Rada, my daughter Katarina.”
Rada waved her fingers at me passively, though she didn’t lift her eyes from the phone.
“Sit,” Sergei said.
I walked into the room and sat on the edge of the brocade sofa. He watched me expectantly.
“Where is Tatiana?” I asked. “I haven’t seen her since we got here.”
“She’s well and being cared for. It seems I was remiss in thinking Hallow Hall could provide a good education for a girl her age. She is quite behind, but it’s not a problem now. She will have the finest tutors this city has to offer.”
“Where is her mother?” I heard myself ask before I could question the wisdom of it.
Sergei took a moment to answer. “She is Italian and lives in Palermo. She wasn’t well enough to take care of a child, so Tatiana was put into my care.”
“And you sent her to Hallow Hall? That’s your idea of care?” A jagged laugh left me.