He tipped his head at the door. “Trust me. It will haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.”
Drake sounded as if he spoke from experience. And after considering what this would do to me mentally, I took his advice and stepped into the hallway. I still had flashbacks of my mother’s murder, though I still couldn’t piece together all the details of that night.
I heard Willow’s scream on the surveillance video through the crack in the open door.
“No, you can’t have her!” Willow yelled. “She’s not here. Get out!”
“Kisa is here,” the man said in a thick Russian accent.
My dad called me kisa.
Russian for kitten.
A few more minutes of conversation ensued, where he ran after Willow. It sounded like she put up a good fight, only to end up in the pool. I was glad Drake spared me the gory details of her death.
After he turned off the video, Drake sobbed. This was a private moment for their family, so I moved farther down the corridor to give him space.
Drake emerged from the room a minute later, scrubbing at his eyes. He refused to meet my gaze and grabbed my shoulder, guiding me down the hallway.
“Who is that man? He called me kisa.”
“Your uncle.”
“What?” I blinked rapidly, still trying to digest his confession. “My uncle killed Willow?”
“Andrey Romanov is one of the leaders of the Volkov Bratva. I assume he came here looking for you and found Willow. She wasn’t his intended target.”
I bent forward, clutching my stomach to still the waves of nausea sweeping through me. Any minute, I was either going to faint or vomit.
“Go upstairs and lock yourself in your bedroom. Don’t open it for anyone but me or the Marshalls,” Drake ordered before continuing down the hall toward the natatorium.
The house was unusually silent. Not a sound from Cole’s brothers, not even the staff. This place was always so warm and lifelike. It was as if the house knew she was gone.
I was about to head upstairs when I caught something moving out of the corner of my eye. Not a something but a someone.
He was still in the house.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and fear washed over me.
“Come, kisa,” the Russian man whispered with a thick accent. “Your father is waiting for you.”
Chapter Forty-Two
GRACE
I hauled ass down the hallway, screaming for Cole, Rhys, and Drake, hoping one of them would hear me. With my uncle blocking the direction of the natatorium, I had to run toward the East Wing. If I could climb the stairs, I could cut across the second floor and get help.
My uncle stalked in my direction, his movements slow and controlled like he had all the time in the world. He was well over six feet tall and built strong like an ox. If he were to pin me down, it would be game over. He had at least eighty pounds more muscle and was close to a foot taller than me. I did the math and knew it was a losing battle.
I raced toward the stairs.
“Stupid, stupid girl,” the man taunted from behind me.
A chill rushed over me like spiders crawling down my spine.
Fuck.
“Do not disappoint your father, kisa.”