Page 67 of Beautiful Agony

Rain pelts against my windshield as I turn the car around. Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the nearly empty parking lot. Through the diner's windows, I spot Dr. Chen and Bianca huddled in a corner booth, steaming mugs in front of them.

My boots squeak against the linoleum as I approach. Dr. Chen's eyes are red-rimmed, her hand clasped tightly around her daughter's. Bianca looks... hollow. The kind of emptiness I've seen too many times in other victims' eyes.

"Mr. Stravinsky." Dr. Chen's voice cracks. "I... thank you. For my daughter."

I slide into the booth across from them. "You understand they'll come looking for you both."

She nods, pulling Bianca closer. "I know. But where can we go?"

"Pankration has room," I say carefully, watching Bianca's reaction. "It's secure. Safe."

'I can't." Dr. Chen stiffens. "Not after what I almost..."

"Mom, please," Bianca speaks for the first time, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to go back home."

Dr. Chen's face crumples as she looks at her daughter. I recognize that expression—the helpless anguish of a parent unable to protect her child from monsters.

"You'll both be protected there," I tell them quietly. "And I'm sure my wife will appreciate the company."

Almost an hour later,I step into Pankration, my clothes still damp from the rain.

Lacey rushes towards me, her face tight with worry. "Zvyozdochka," I breathe as she crashes into my arms. Her familiar citrus and lavender scent fills my nose, grounding me after everything that just happened.

"How did it go?" She pulls back, searching my face. "Did you find?—"

I step aside, revealing Dr. Chen and Bianca hovering uncertainly in the doorway. Relief floods Lacey's features as she hurries to greet them both.

"Thank God you're both safe." She wraps them in a gentle hug before turning back. "Lenka!"

Our housekeeper appears almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting nearby. Lacey gestures to our new guests. "Could you help them get settled?"

"Of course." Lenka's weathered features soften as she takes in Bianca's haunted expression. She guides mother and daughter deeper into the mansion with practiced efficiency.

Once they're gone, Lacey turns back to me. Her amber-flecked eyes narrow as she studies my face. "What else happened? There's something you're not telling me."

I draw her close again, needing to feel her warmth. "Olga's dead," I say quietly against her hair. "I killed her."

I brace myself for the horror and revulsion I expect to see in Lacey's eyes. Instead, she cups my face between her palms, her gaze steady and sure.

"You did what you had to do," she says softly. "Olga made her choice when she sided with Sayanaa and Kirsan."

"But she saved my mother," I whisper, the weight of what I've done settling heavy in my chest.

"Yes, she did." Lacey's thumb strokes my cheek. "And it's alright that you feel conflicted about this. It shows you're nothing like what she claimed you were."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. "She told me why she hated me so much. Said I had a soft heart like Slava, and that she hated knowing Slava suffered while I lived."

"Then she should have protected you both instead of letting her bitterness poison everything." Lacey's voice carries a fierce certainty that makes my breath catch. "She saved your mother, yes, but she could not bring herself to love you when you needed it the most. And then she tried to force another mother to kill our child. She was given chances, and turned them away at every turn."

"You're starting to sound like a real pakhan's wife," I tell her, unable to keep the pride from my voice.

Lacey's fingers trace along my jaw as she holds my gaze. "That's because I married a real pakhan. Not some heartless monster who thinks having a conscience means weakness." Her touch sends warmth through my rain-chilled skin. "I married a mancapable of love. Someone who understands the weight of what it means to take a life."

Before I can respond, she presses a finger to my lips. "Listen," she whispers.

I do as she asks, and for a moment, I hear nothing but the familiar sounds of Pankration at night—the hum of the security systems, the distant footsteps of my men on patrol. Then it reaches my ears: laughter. Female laughter, drifting down from upstairs where Dr. Chen and Bianca must be settling in.

My breath catches. In all my years here, since that first night when Pyotr brought me to Pankration at age six, I've never heard such a sound within these walls. Women's screams, yes. Sobs, definitely.

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