Page 112 of Forged By Sacrifice

“Wait right here,” they said and disappeared down the hall—a nondescript hall in a nondescript building that made me feel like I was living in some spy novel.

“Theresa,” I started, and she shushed me. “I was just going to say thank you for coming.”

She nodded, but her eyes said stop talking, so I did.

When they came back, they had Raisa with them. She looked tired but calm, and a wave of pride surged over me. My eighteen-year-old sister had held herself together remarkably well for being taken away. I hugged her tightly to me, and she hugged me back.

“We’re releasing both your clients, but we’re asking them not to go anywhere,” the woman said.

“My sister will be at Stanford. You can find her there,” I told them and then grabbed Raisa’s hand and started walking toward the doorway at the end of the hall. We left silently.

Outside, we got into Theresa’s Jaguar. Theresa put her keys in the ignition and then looked at Raisa in the rearview mirror. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing. I said nothing. I know better. When Father gets questioned, we all say nothing. I said I was at the club with Georgie and Malik. Malik did not feel well and left early. Georgie and I left our bags at the table, which was stupid, but we danced. We came back to the table as the cops came in and asked us to go with them. We know nothing.”

“I’m your attorney. As of right now, you’re both my clients, but I don’t want you to tell me anything other than what you just told me. Do you understand?” Theresa asked, starting the car and backing out.

We both nodded.

We dropped Raisa off at the hotel first. I got out of the car and hugged her tightly again. “I’m so sorry, Georgie,” she said quietly.

“This is not your fault,” I told her, brushing her hair from her face.

“Malik is such an idiot. Father is going to be furious,” Raisa said.

I nodded. Petya was going to bust a few things, maybe even something on Malik.

“You need to fly out to Stanford today. If you need me to take you to the airport, let me know.”

“No, I will call the pilot tonight.”

Petya’s private jet had brought them to D.C. I was wondering if it was still at the airport, or if Malik was already winging his way back to Russia.

“I love you, malyshka,” I said, my voice shaky with the emotions and tears I’d been holding back.

“Love you too, moy dorogoy,” she said, squeezing me, wiping her eyes, and then leaving.

I got back into the car, gave Theresa my address, and then was silent while we drove. I sat, fidgeting, trying to work up the courage to speak.

“Theresa, I’m so sorry,” I finally said, letting it out with a heavy breath.

“You did the right thing calling me,” she said, reaching over and patting me on the hand.

“I just…”

“Was it yours?”

I knew she was talking about the drugs, and I shook my head.

“You told me about your stepdad. I had fair warning,” she said with a small smile.

“They weren’t mine. But they aren’t Petya’s either. He doesn’t deal in drugs. He has no respect for it,” I told her honestly, and I could see that she saw the honesty, because she nodded.

“I don’t want to know any more.”

We were quiet.

“Do you want me to stop working for you?” I asked as we pulled up to the apartment.

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