The words hang in the air like a blade suspended over all our heads. Maya's face drains of color so fast, I think she might pass out. Her hand finds the back of the couch, gripping it hard enough that her knuckles go white.
"Maybe I have a doppelganger somewhere." Her voice is steady, but I hear the tremor underneath.
Danil studies her for another long moment, his dark eyes moving over her face like he's trying to solve an equation. Then he shakes his head, a small smile crossing his features. "My mistake. The woman I'm thinking of had dark hair. Much longer. And she lived on the other side of the country." He picks up his mug again, taking a slow sip. "Sometimes, faces just look similar, you know?"
The tension doesn't leave Maya's shoulders. If anything, she looks more stricken now than before. "I'm tired," she says abruptly, not looking at either of us. "I'm going to bed."
She's already moving toward the bedroom before I can respond, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. The door closesbehind her with a soft click that somehow sounds louder than a slam.
I turn back to Danil, and the easy smile has dropped from his face. He's watching the closed bedroom door with an expression I can't quite read.
"What was that about?" I ask, my voice low and dangerous.
"Nothing." He sets down his mug and leans back in the chair, but there's tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. "Like I said, she just reminded me of someone."
I don't believe him. But I also don't know what game he's playing, so I let it drop. For now.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the howl of wind outside. Danil shifts in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee, and I notice the way he moves. Economical. Controlled. Like someone who's spent years learning to be aware of his body in space.
Like me.
"So," he says finally, breaking the silence. "You really don't remember anything?"
"Fragments. Flashes. Nothing that connects." I lean back against the couch, trying to look relaxed even though every muscle in my body is coiled tight. "Tell me something. Something that might help."
He considers this, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Who I am. What I do. Why someone shot me and left me to die in the snow."
"That's a lot of questions." He stands, moving to the window to look out at the storm. The movement is restless, like he can't quite settle. "And I'm not sure I have all the answers."
"Try."
He turns back to face me, and in the firelight, his features look harder. Older. "You're a businessman. Import-export, mostly. You provide services people need. Goods that are harder to come by through legitimate channels. You protect your territory and the people in it."
"So I'm a criminal."
"You're a pragmatist." His voice is careful, measured. "You have rules. Lines you won't cross. No kids. No civilians who aren't involved."
A memory flashes. A map spread across a table, neighborhoods marked in different colors, my finger tracing boundaries. "I remember something. A map dividing up the city."
Danil's expression doesn't change, but his shoulders tense. "What else?"
"Your face. Younger. We were in a car together. Late at night. You were driving, and I was angry about something. Someone had crossed a line." I close my eyes, trying to force the memory into focus. "I remember the weight of a gun in my hand. The smell of gunpowder and fear."
Danil moves to sit back down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "That's probably for the best."
"Is it?" I meet his eyes. "Or are you just afraid of what I'll remember?"
"Maybe both." He runs a hand over his shaved head, and I notice the scars on his knuckles. Old ones, white and raised. "The man you were before made hard choices. Necessary ones. But they weren't always easy to live with."
"Did I kill people?"
The question hangs between us. Danil doesn't answer immediately, and in that silence, I have my answer.
"When necessary," he says finally. "To protect what was yours. To maintain order. But you weren't a monster. You believed in loyalty. In taking care of your people. In keeping your word, even when it cost you."
I stand, needing to move, and pace to the window. The storm is getting worse, snow falling so thickly, I can barely see the tree line. "And you? What are you to me?"