Page 209 of Silenced

Dema unlocks the door to reveal a room that is lined with filing cabinets. Each row makes a solid wall, creating a passageway within the tight confines of the basement.

It’s almost like a labyrinth.

I can’t help but wonder where the Minotaur’s hiding down here.

“Peshnya ran from the USSR before its collapse and he collected information on the right people to keep us safe when the Kremlin wouldn’t leave him alone,” Dema informs me. “You heard of someone called Bear?”

I shake my head. Then, it clicks. “The right people meaning the Bratva?”

She dips her chin. “I know what you’re capable of. Know what the Bratva is capable of too. But I told you so already.”

Something flickers in my mind, but I just demur, “I willneverhurt her.”

Dema doesn’t respond to that, just says, “I’ve been reading up on your situation, Nikolai. My daughter’s safety lies with you—”

“You can’t trust everything you read in the papers.” That ‘something’ which fluttered in my mind crops up again. “Or on blogs.”

“Yoursafety was compromised when you killed Fyodor Turgenev,” she states, ignoring me entirely and holding out a hand that encompasses the room. “Take whatever you need to ensure her protection. It’s yours.

“Now, I’m going to spend some time with my daughter and leave you to deal with business.”

She starts to leave, but I stop her by gracing her with an offer I didn’t expect to make, “I have a large estate in Florida with plenty of room and an expansive garden. You are always welcome to visit.”

That has her shooting me a grin, one that beams from her—once again, I’m reminded of her daughter. “I accept that invitation. We already lost too much time. I won’t lose anymore.”

Curious, I clear my throat. “Turgenev—was your husband related to Fyodor?”

“Second cousins. He’d have approved of you killing him. He always said his family were a bunch of assholes.”

I dip my chin but ask, “How did he die? It says ‘accidental death’ on his death certificate.”

Her hand tightens into a fist at her side. “He was dying of cancer and took pills to speed up the process. Cassie… doesn’t know any of that. She thinks he never recovered from a heart attack.”

Remorse hits me and all I can think to say is, “I apologize for intruding on your grief.” It’s obvious that she feels the pain of his loss as if it happened yesterday and not close to two decades ago.

“I appreciate that.”

“Who’s Bear?”

She hitches a shoulder. “Friend of my husband. Worked on this with him. Thought you might have known him.”

When she makes to leave, I don’t stop her, but only as her steps fade into silence do I start pulling open drawers.

As I flick through the files, I smile to myself. Old the information might be, but that doesn’t stop it from being very, very pertinent.

“Solnyshko,” I whisper, feeling the heat of her light even in this basement, shadowed by the crimes of my brothers.

Some things, I recognize, are fated.

My meeting Cassiopeia Turgenev was one such event.

The future is not as secure as I’d like it to be for her, but there is one solid truth that I will live my life by until the day I die—sheismy little sun.

My Persephone.

And this Hades will never let anyone, man or God or her mother, steal her from me, and her father just made sure that will never happen.

CHAPTERFIFTY-EIGHT

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