Page 151 of Silenced

He shoots me a knowing look. “Do you know what that means?”

I shake my head. “Love? Darling?”

“Ice pick.”

My eyes bug. “What—”

“That was his favorite tool. They say his father killed Leon Trotsky and he taught his son how to...” He shifts on his seat. “… wield it like a weapon.”

That has me choking. “You’re saying that m-my grandfather killed Trotsky?TheTrotsky? Lenin and founding father of the USSR Trotsky?”

Nikolai nods, and that expressionless goddamn face of his just makes his words ram themselves home.

Still, I have to argue, “My dad never bought new socks unless they had holes in the toes. He ate potatoes every single day of his life. His snores were so loud that my mom and I had to wear earplugs. He never missed a day of work at the mine before he retired.” I suck in a breath. “There’s no way—”

Nikolai presses a hand to my shoulder. “I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t believe it.”

More to myself than him, I whisper, “I don’t understand.”

His hand smoothes over my arm. “Did he ever claim to be a soldier?”

“Sure. He served in Kazakhstan, at the border conflict between Russia and China.” I swallow. “That was a lie?”

“I imagine that was in the early days of his service to the Kremlin.”

I sag against him. “My father was a Soviet agent? Or did he do work for the Bratva?”

His expression doesn’t give me much of an answer. Nor do his next words. “You had no idea?”

“None.”

Thishasto be a joke.

“He was ex-KGB. Defected before the crumbling of the USSR.” Nikolai’s gaze turns distant.“I just don’t understand why he didn’t change his name.”

“Maybe he isn’t who you think he is,” I reply quickly. “Maybe this is just a coincidence.”

“I’ve seen his ID,” he denies, but he pats my arm.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He hitches a shoulder. “I don’t want there to be lies between us.”

The strange cold that filled me with his revelations about my father fades with the gentle warmth that overtakes it from his words.

I stare at him. “Why have you been looking into my past?”

“I haven’t. We’re looking for Rundel. It came up during the investigation.”

“You’re still actively looking for him?”

It’s been weeks, after all.

God, more than that.

Time blurs atNavbut apparently, the Bratva takes manhunts more seriously than the feds.

He stares at me. “Only when he’s lining one of my alligator’s stomachs, Cassiopeia, will I stop hunting him. He’ll pay for what he did to you.” His nostrils flare as he releases a heavy exhalation. “As it stands, I’ve already let you down—”

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