Nobody moves. My breath rasps in my throat. The sounds outside have stopped, replaced by the distant wail of police sirens.
Kelly steps up to Matvei and holds out her hand for the weapon. “Give me the gun. Let’s all get out of here alive and free.”
Matvei hands her the weapon without argument, and something passes between the two of them as their eyes meet. My sister wipes it clean before impressing Samson’s hand and then her own on it, erasing any sign that Matvei used it.
They’re both composed, but I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering.
Matvei engulfs me, and I’m crying. He kisses me desperately, checking to make sure I’m okay, murmuring things in Russian I don’t understand but want to.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” I repeat the words over and over, as much for him as for myself.
Because I am okay and so is Kelly, Matvei and the twins. It’s over, and I’m in Matvei’s arms, and that’s the only thing that matters.
32
SONYA
The air is like a frozen, choking entity, smelling of wood smoke, gunpowder,and the metallic scent of blood.
We’re in a temporary command post set up by the police in the mansion’s vast, pristine garage. It’s warm in here with the giant fireplace blazing, but the heat can’t penetrate the arctic grip of terror still locked around my lungs. The harsh fluorescent lights are blinding, making my already pounding headache worse.
I sit on a stool, bundled in a blanket the EMTs wrapped around me after checking me out. I press a hand to my belly in a silent prayer of protection.You are safe. We are safe. Our family saved us.
Kelly isn’t too far away, giving her statement. She looks worse for wear; her hair is coming loose from the severe bun she always wears and there is still blood on her face and hands. The tone of her voice is a steady, unwavering monotone, reciting a lie.
Kelly, the good cop, is committing professional suicide for Matvei. For us.
The lead detective, a man named Sterling from the Lake Geneva PD, sits opposite her. He’s tall and thin, with tired, shrewd eyes and a face that gives nothing away. His partner is Detective Vance. She’s younger and sharper and she takes notes, her gaze flicking between Kelly and me as she assesses the authenticity of the trauma.
I focus on the rhythm of Kelly’s words, cementing the fiction in my own mind.A confidential source warned her that Samson was holding me against my will and was planning to harm me and the unborn twins. She came alone; it’s only coincidence that Matvei and Evgeny showed up when they did to rescue me. She had already breached the residence and had subdued the guards non-lethally. Mostly. She found Samson and Genevieve about to harm me and she took action, a police officer saving civilians as Samson tried to kill us all.
My gaze slips to Matvei. He is leaning against the wall near the garage’s entrance, a statue of composure carved from granite. His expression is one of calm and patient cooperation, the picture of a concerned civilian who arrived just in time to witness a tragedy.
All I can see are the cuts on his face from shattered glass and the big gash and purple bruise on the right side of his forehead from the accident, along with the other bruises and cuts from Samson’s attack. I don’t miss the way he moves with a cautiousness that speaks of pain, now that his adrenaline is waning.
Evgeny has already given his statement, all of us providing the same synchronized, bulletproof list of events. He is being treated in the back of an ambulance for the deep gash one of Samson’s men gave him on the way in.
We are a choir singing a deadly hymn.
Kelly finishes. She doesn’t look at me as she passes, but I feel the weight of her choice, a line drawn in blood across her career, her integrity, her very life. She has just given Matvei a clear path, potentially sacrificing everything she’s built to keep him out of prison and in my life.
Sterling pushes his chair back, the sound scraping against the concrete. His eyes finally meet mine. They hold a deep, uncomfortable skepticism that makes my stomach clench.
“We’ll circle back with you, Officer Preston,” Sterling says to Kelly, the use of her rank a perceptible sneer. She walks out of the garage. He then turns his attention entirely to Matvei. “Mr. Volkov. Your turn.”
Matvei pushes off the wall and walks toward the table. He moves with an effortless grace that belies the brutal, deadly monster he’d been just an hour ago. The pain he must be in. I can see it because I know him so well now, because he has become a part of me.
He sits down, folds his hands on the table, and looks directly at Detective Sterling, projecting absolute control.He is not Matvei Volkov, head of the feared and powerful Volkov Bratva. He is Matvei Volkov, distressed father-to-be and businessman from Chicago.
“I will tell you everything you need to know, Detective,” Matvei says, his voice low, clear, and perfectly modulated with just the right amount of controlled anger and relief.
Sterling’s tired eyes narrow. “Officer Preston states that she acted in defense of a civilian, finding Mr.Genovese and his wife in the act of threatening her sister.”
“And I confirm that statement,” Matvei replies smoothly. “I arrived on the scene with my friend, Evgeny, alerted by a source who overheard Samson’s intentions. I foundOfficer Preston standing over my brother. She saved my girlfriend’s life and the lives of my children. A tragedy, yes. But a clear case.”
He weaves his truth into Kelly’s lie, making the tapestry seamless. He doesn’t deny his presence, he integrates it. He makes himself a witness, not the perpetrator.I know his genius comes from decades of operating one step ahead of the law, creating a bulletproof screen around himself and his syndicate.
Detective Sterling taps his pen against his pad. “Let’s go over the details of your arrival again, Mr. Volkov. Officer Preston claims she broke in alone and subdued at least half a dozen armed guardsby herself, even though witnesses at the precinct tell me she left with—” he glances down at his writing pad “—Mr. EvgenyFedorov. You state you and your men arrived mere minutes later. Who was your source, exactly, that gave you such timely, explicit information?”